


Bound

by spinner33



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Dark Humor, M/M, Marriage, Multi, Questionable Consent, Self-Sacrifice, Vampire AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-06-01 12:20:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 53,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6519088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinner33/pseuds/spinner33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An acquaintance from Steve's past returns to ask a favor.  He is bound by blood oath to obey the request.  That's only the beginning of a very bad weekend for Danny and Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Last Friday Night

It all began innocently enough. There were certainly no advance indications that by the end of the weekend, one or both of them might well be dead, or nearly so as one can come to it. It was late Friday night at the office—everyone was wrapping up for the day, finishing that last minute paperwork, and licking wounds from the case just closed. 

Kono was ready to go, computer off, eyes dancing out the window every few moments to check the ocean in the distance. She was nursing the bruise on her cheek, and fresh stitches in her bottom lip. She had taken a beating, bringing in the drug runners on their latest case, but she had given as good as she got. She hadn’t stopped smiling yet. That might have had something to do with the pain medication making her a little happy though.

“Hey,” McGarrett said, stopping at Kalakaua’s office door. He winced when she turned around. “I am so sorry,” Steve added as he cringed. He crossed to her desk, and delicately placed a small icepack on Kono’s cheek.

“Boss, you are such a mother hen,” Kono joked, happily accepting the attention nonetheless. Steve continued to chastise himself.

“I should have known to it was a trap.”

“It’s not your fault, Boss.”

“As your commander, everything that happens on an op is my responsibility. It’s my job to protect my people. I let you down.”

“You did not,” Kono sighed impatiently.

“You saved our bacon, at any rate.”

“You’re welcome,” Kono glimmered with glee.

“You should have gone home instead of coming back to the office. Gotten an early start to the weekend.”

“I don’t know who is worse, you or Chin,” Kono mused. “I wasn’t going to cut out early.”

“Is he clucking and plucking at you again?” Danny asked from the office door.

“Yes,” Kono replied in good humor, peering around McGarrett’s side to see Williams enter the office.

“Come on, Babe. Let Kono be. She’s not going home to sleep it off. She’s going to go out tonight, show off those bruises, and tell tall tales about how she single-handedly whipped the asses off three baddies while we were blow-torching our way out of the cargo hold of a drug runner’s pleasure yacht.”

Danny took one of Steve’s arms, tugging him for the door. The hand moved subtly from his arm to his waist, to the small of his back, fingers rubbing and soothing. Kono pretended she hadn’t seen, but the little gesture brought a tender smile to her face.

“There you are. I knew you wouldn’t go home first,” Chin laughed, folding a jacket over his arm to hide his wrist cast.

“Says the guy with the broken wrist?” Kono smirked. 

“You should both take it easy this weekend,” Steve cautioned.

“What about you two? You got any big plans? Do you have Gracie?” Kono asked. She waited as Danny and Steve exchanged a glance. Steve was concerned, but Danny was vaguely amused. Chin gave Kono a sharp-eyed glance behind their backs, peering between Danny and Steve to needle Kono. She was assuming that the two men would be spending the weekend together, but then again, it had been a fair assumption to make. It was no secret among the team members that things had gotten pretty serious between the Boss and Jersey.

“I don't have any plans. Grace is spending next weekend,” Danny replied, clearing his throat quietly.

“I don’t have any plans,” Steve added with a small shrug. “I do need to reorganize the shelves in the garage. I’ve lost a couple car parts in there somewhere. I’ll work on the Marquis for a while.”

“Maybe I’ll come over and lend you a hand?” Danny offered. 

“Maybe I’ll let you,” Steve mused. 

“Sounds like fun,” Kono teased.

“Take it easy this weekend. Rest up,” Steve advised.

“Will do, Boss. See you Monday,” Kono grinned. She didn’t have to be told twice. Kalakaua grabbed Chin’s good arm. Kelly allowed his cousin to pull him along.

“Were you ever that excited to show off bruises and stitches?” Danny asked quietly. Steve beamed at a distant memory. “Nevermind. Forgot for a second who I was talking to,” Danny chided himself. 

Steve’s phone rang. Chin and Kono waited. Danny backed up, and watched Steve’s face as McGarrett answered. The team judged from Steve’s side of the conversation and his warping facial expressions what the call was all about.

“McGarrett. Hello, sir. Oh, do you?” 

Steve’s voice was guarded. He tilted his head, and wafted skepticism like a heady cologne. One eyebrow hitched higher before settling back down.

“That is pretty odd.”

Mumbling was audible from the other voice.

“Okay. He’s dead in the back alley behind the Norwegian embassy. I’m sorry. The Norwegian consulate. Why not contact them? Oh. They contacted you? I see.” 

Danny was sure now that it was Governor Denning calling Steve. 

“It’s not that I’m not intrigued, sir, but is there any reason the dead, naked goth guy with strange tattoos can't wait until morning? My team and I spent the day pulling down a major drug ring for you. Lieutenant Kelly won't be able to type for weeks. Officer Kalakaua looks like she went a couple rounds with Randy Couture. We’re bushed, sir, and this case frankly doesn’t sound like anything the Honolulu P.D. wouldn’t be able to handle. They’re very capable, and happy to help. Sarcastic? No. I’m quite serious.” 

Denning’s voice got softer, almost hesitant. Steve coughed up a snort of perverse amusement.

“That's how this is going, is it? The Norwegian ambassador is a personal friend? And he’s the one who found the dead, naked, goth dude with strange tattoos on his ass. And you thought of me first, naturally.” 

Steve waited through a barrage of harsh hissing from the governor. 

“Goth dude is clutching an antique rosary and crucifix. So now he's the naked, dead, Catholic goth dude, behind the Norwegian consulate? What do you mean, this is right up my alley?” Steve growled before he went quiet again. 

Denning sounded broken and desperate. Steve was cackling.

“Well, that is auspicious. You've got an actual anthropologist on hand who can translate the ancient ruins which are tattooed on the naked, dead goth dude's ass."

Whatever Denning said next made McGarrett’s hazel-blue eyes glitter deliciously. His voice dropped at least an octave.

"I'll be right there.”

Steve stuffed his phone away as he headed for the door.

“What's the case, Steve?” Chin asked wearily.

“Nah, brah. I got this one,” Steve said. “You guys head home.”

“No! Bad Steve! How many times do we have to go through this? We do not take on cases alone! We’re a team!” Danny bellowed.

Steve stopped in his tracks at the sharp tone, as if someone had pulled on his leash.

“It’s not a case. It’s a curiosity. I’ll have it wrapped up in an hour or two,” Steve shrugged. 

Chin and Danny and Kono all stared at Steve with the same bland expression. 

“It’s nothing. It’s…what?” Steve babbled.

“We heard. It’s a naked, dead, goth dude behind the Norwegian consulate,” Chin said.

“Go home,” Steve frowned. “I got this.” 

“Steve, there’s no ‘I’ in team,” Danny countered. 

“Yeah, but there is an ‘F’ in ‘Fuck off’,” Steve smirked. He was out the door without another word. 

“Steven!! We don’t leave the office without back up!” Danny howled.

“Save your breath, Jersey. We’re going to have to work on him some more before it finally sinks in,” Chin decided.

“I say we get a water bottle. If we spray him in the face every time he does this, he might eventually stop,” Kono suggested. 

“I say we give him shock treatments,” Danny growled. He pushed through the doors and pounded down the steps to catch up. Kono flew after him like a bat out of hell.

“Maybe we could start with positive reinforcement?” Chin called out. He trudged along behind, in no big hurry. He would find his own way there. 


	2. A Dagger and a Crucifix

When the team arrived, Dr. Bergman was at the scene as well, picking over the body. He wandered to and fro around the man, looking very discontent indeed. The alley had been cordoned off, but that hadn’t prevented a group of blood-thirsty onlookers from gathering and gawking at the gigantic man stretched out face-down on the pavement. At least someone had had the decency to get a sheet. 

“Ah. Commander. How are you?”

“Grumpy,” Steve admitted readily. 

“Busy day,” Dr. Bergman agreed. 

Danny stopped a few feet short of the man’s feet, pen and pad at the ready, motioning his palms flat and to the sides, shoulder bouncing. 

“He’s not even Norwegian,” Williams protested. Steve and Max traded places as Steve needled Danny with a sideways glance. 

“How do you know?” McGarrett wondered. 

“I know my Norwegians. Stout, sturdy, blond – Tank’s people. This guy is what? Seven feet tall? He’s got black hair. He’s about as Norwegian as I am,” Danny snorted. 

“Actually, Detective Williams, the tattoos on his posterior would seem to indicate that he does in fact have Norwegian heritage,” Max interjected. 

“And a vestigial tail too, no doubt,” Danny smirked. 

“Forgive him,” Steve begged of Max. The medical examiner carried on.

“I have only just begun the examination, but this scene feels staged. There is something amiss here.” 

Steve seemed to be fighting a dry smile. 

“What’s that?” he asked curiously. 

“There is no obvious cause of death. No blood. No bullet wounds. No bruises or marks. There are other peculiarities as well.” 

“Such as?” Steve squeaked. 

“There is no post-mortem lividity, which would lead me to believe he has not been in this position, or deceased, for very long. The body was discovered just after dark, approximately one hour ago. There are no signs of physical trauma. No evidence at the scene which might suggest what contributed to his demise.” 

“What happened to the crucifix?” Steve wondered. 

“I bagged it already. Quite beautiful. Rosewood beads. Hand-crafted chain. The solid gold crucifix doubles as a reliquary.” 

“Anything under the body?” Danny wondered as Kono found a space between Steve and Danny. McGarrett stared at the growing crowd of onlookers. Williams paced around the body behind Max. 

“I have not yet turned him over. He’s quite heavy and stiff.” 

McGarrett was biting back a smile again. 

“Can you give us a ballpark estimate on time of death?” Danny wondered. 

“Not yet. I’ll be able to tell you more once I get him back to the lab. A little assistance, Commander?” Max asked. 

Steve gripped the large, muscular man by the shoulders, as Max grabbed the man’s ankles. Together they turned him over in one swift movement which brought an arm up to smack Steve’s knee. 

“My God! Is that real?!” Danny exclaimed. 

Steve snorted and pushed the hand down. Kono’s mouth was hanging open as wide as Danny’s eyes. 

“Thank you, Commander,” Max grunted as he adjusted the sheet, and examined the dagger which had been uncovered by the turning of the man’s body. Steve was straddled over the man, one leg on either side. He borrowed a glove from Max, and picked up the long, thin metal blade. 

“There is currently an exhibition of ancient Viking blades going on inside the Norwegian embassy,” Chin said as he sidled up to the group. He handed Danny a pamphlet, as Steve cradled the dagger lovingly. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” McGarrett cooed.

“Do you need a few minutes alone?” Danny rumbled. 

“No. Just admiring a work of art,” Steve replied. 

“I second that,” Kono purred, eyes on the guy on the ground. She looked to Danny for a high-five, and got a narrow-eyed frown instead. 

“Do you think he stole that from the exhibition?” Chin offered a bag, into which Steve reluctantly slid the dagger. 

“No. It’s his,” Steve answered. 

“How do you know?” Danny wondered.

“Don’t be a killjoy, Boss. It wouldn’t hurt to scan the video footage from the event and see if he’s on the tapes,” Chin suggested. 

“I agree. It wouldn’t hurt. I don’t think he’ll show up though,” Steve replied.

“How do you know?” Danny wondered. Steve gave a cryptic smile in reply. 

“Give him a private room at the lab, Max, will you?” McGarrett requested, stepping carefully over the man on the ground. 

“Did he just breathe?” Danny blinked, gaping downward. 

The rest of the team stared at Danny. Max motioned to his assistants with the wheeled gurney.

“High unlikely, Detective,” Dr. Bergman muttered. 

“Jersey, you are tired, aren’t you?” Kono laughed. 

“Private room, Max,” Steve repeated. 

“Any particular reason?” Max wondered. 

“You’ll thank me later,” Steve promised with a quirky smirk. 

“What do we have, Boss?” Chin asked. 

“Dead guy,” Kono motioned. 

“He’s not even Norwegian,” Chin complained. 

“Uh huh, you see, uh huh?” Danny growled at Steve, getting closer to Chin while making faces at the team leader. 

McGarrett shook his head at both of them, reaching out to take Danny by one shoulder. He took away his pen and pad, and stepped aside so that Max’s people could wheel a gurney over beside the corpse. 

“Would you two like to go question the potential witnesses while Detective Williams and I have a private discussion?” Steve asked. Kono and Chin backed slowly away, walking towards the gawkers, smirking at Danny and Steve as they faced off. 

“Um, sure, yeah, okay, no probs,” Kono nodded, dragged Chin backwards. 

“We need to talk about your attitude here,” Steve began once the other two were well away. 

“My attitude?”

“You should be more respectful of the dead.” 

“Pretty sure he doesn’t care what I say.” 

“Go home. I got this. You need some sleep.”

“Oh, is that what this is?” 

“What?” 

“You think because we’re sleeping together, you get to boss me around?” Danny whispered in tight, close and personal. 

“No. As your supervisor, I get to boss you around,” Steve reminded him.

“So then your plan is to go heavy on me, make sure the others know that you’re not going to show me any favoritism?” Danny muttered. 

“No. That’s not what this is about at all,” Steve promised. “You’re tired. Your eyes are drooping. You are getting sleepier by the minute.”

“I’m good. Get me some coffee, and I can make it another couple hours,” Danny protested. 

“Go home. It’s okay to admit when you’re tired.” 

“Not tired,” Danny lied. “Let’s bag this guy up, and go watch his autopsy.” 

“Go sit in the car and close your eyes. Get a cat nap.” 

“Oh, no. I'm staying right here, babe,” Danny laughed, watching Max and his assistants struggle to lift the dead weight of the large man’s body. Steve turned around, squatted down, and lifted under the man.

“I guess we can forego searching his pockets for ID,” Max murmured in dry amusement. 

“Yup,” Steve grunted, levelling the body and adjusting the sheet again. 

“I did take pictures of his tattoos. I’ll send them to your phone,” Max promised. 

"Thanks," Steve replied.

Danny was blinking at the body once more. 

“Swear to God. I saw him breathe,” Williams whispered frantically. Steve lifted the man’s long arm, and held his wrist out for examination. Danny slid his fingertips along the ice-cold blood vessels at the wrist. 

“Pulse, nurse?” Steve inquired, brow rising. 

“None, doctor,” Danny answered. Steve took Danny’s hand and placed it over the mouth and nose of the man on the gurney. 

“Respiration, nurse?” 

“None, doctor,” Danny replied, yanking his hand away. 

“No pulse, no respiration, skin is cold and clammy. What’s your final analysis, nurse?” Steve asked. 

“Dead as a door nail,” Danny muttered. 

“If you’re quite finished with my body,” Max protested, shooing them both back. He tucked the arm back in place, strapped the man down, and followed the gurney towards the waiting vehicle. 

“Drive carefully,” Steve called out. 

Max waved over one shoulder while climbing into the back of the vehicle. 

"Now what, learless feeder?" Danny asked. "Do we go question the crowd? Do we go find the Governor? Do we find the archeologist?"

"Anthropologist. Yes. Briefly."

Steve cupped a hand under Danny's elbow and guided him to the building.


	3. Inimicus

“I’m getting a little confused on the timeline here,” Danny squinted at Governor Denning and the middle-aged scholar with round glasses who stood next to him. 

“In what way? We have been quite precise with our details,” the anthropologist replied. 

“Was it before or after the finger food and wine that you went outside for a cigarette and found the body?” Danny asked. 

Williams let one eye wander over to Steve. The big SEAL was pressed up against the glass plates of the exhibition in the lobby, rather like a starved man pressed against the window of a restaurant full of food. Danny could admire the display of ancient weapons as much as the next person, see the beauty in their long lines, note the delicate swirls and runes carved into the blades’ lengths. Danny could appreciate the skill it took to fashion a two-handed, five-foot long, double-edged weapon like those displayed. He could show said appreciation without being pressed up against the glass, pining with lust. Steve was running his fingertips down the display case like he was stroking a lover’s back. It was almost embarrassing. 

And just when Danny was ready to chastise Steve and tell him to pay attention to the freaking interview they were conducting, McGarrett pulled himself together, and turned on the anthropologist. Steve whirled around, lowered his brows, and gave a wolfish smile. 

“Doktor Vang, you’ve checked your phone six times in the last ten minutes. Your pulse is racing. Your respiration is elevated. Your hands are shaking. That tells me you’re in an excited state. Maybe you’re all aflutter because this is the closest you’ve ever been to a dead body?” 

“Hardly, Commander. The dead and I are on very familiar terms.” 

“Did you recognize the man on your back stoop?” 

“I do not keep company with such riff-raff as that man,” Vang sniffed in disdain. 

“Then what about this situation has you half-erect and panting?” Steve wondered, eyes traveling up and down with a flick of amusement. Governor Denning caught his breath in shock, and made a face at McGarrett. Danny tapped his pen to his pad, and bit back a smile. 

“I beg your pardon,” Vang gasped, adjusting his dinner jacket accordingly. 

“The runes?” 

“What about them?” Vang asked, voice rising. 

“From the Furthark alphabet?”

“Yes.” 

“Older or younger?” 

“Younger.” 

“Tenth, eleventh century?”

“Yes.” 

Steve reached out a hand to Danny, wiggling his fingers. Danny slid Steve the pad and paper. Steve bit the end off of Danny’s pen, and made a few scrawls on the first clean page. 

“Am I correct?” Steve asked, shoving the pad at Vang. The man sputtered, dabbing his forehead with a cloth which he whipped out of his pocket, and quickly stuffed back in. 

“You are, sir.”

“You’ve encountered these runes before.” 

“I encounter runes all the time. Cataloguing ancient burial sites is my specialty.” 

“At a glance, I’d say your specialty is grave robbing,” Steve frowned. Vang sputtered indignantly again. 

“I can’t expect you to appreciate what I do, Commander.”

“I understand all too well what you do. You open tombs, and steal grave goods. You’ve seen these runes before. But you needed to confer with a colleague about this particular configuration. Why?” 

“I did confer with a colleague, yes. That’s not a crime.” 

“Commander, what’s the meaning of this line of questioning?” Governor Denning growled. 

“In short, sir, I believe Doktor Vang knows much more about our victim than he might care to admit.” 

Governor Denning turned to Vang for explanation. 

“What is it you think I know, young man?” Vang demanded.

“The runes on the victim’s posterior match the runes on some pieces in your exhibit. When we turned him over on the steps, he had a dagger beneath him. The dagger matches the metalwork and artistry of the two-handed spatha over there. I’d bet my left nut they were fashioned by the same hand. There’s holes in the velvet in the back of the display, as though there's a hook missing.”

“I have no idea where this is going, but I don’t like this one bit.”

“You felt an unearthly presence in the room, supernatural eyes which never left you,” Steve began, lowering his voice, centering his eyes on the scholar. 

“Commander, really?” Vang flushed with pleasure and denial at the same time. 

“You have no idea how he did it, because you’ve got video footage of every stinking inch of this room, but one moment the dagger was in the case, and the next minute, amidst the milling visitors, amidst the noise, the music, the talk, the whispers, you walked past that case, and saw the dagger was gone. You panicked. You ran outside.”

“I needed a cigarette.” 

“You weren’t smoking. You were following your senses. You knew whoever had taken the dagger must have gone out the back, because if he went out the front, one of your guests would surely have spotted him, even if he wasn’t visible on your video surveillance.” 

“I needed a cigarette,” Vang growled. 

“Did you carry the ash and the extinguished butt back inside with you?”

“I will hear no more of this!” Vang exclaimed. 

“He came back for what belonged to him.” 

“What? That’s preposterous,” Vang chuckled uncomfortably. “Are you mad?” 

“For what belonged to his family,” Steve amended carefully. “You found him out back – maybe he was taking a moment to admire the dagger, and what? How did you kill him? Poison dart? The power of suggestion? There wasn’t any blood. No gunshot wounds, or bruises, or marks. How did you kill him, Doktor Vang?” 

“Are you really accusing me of murder!” Vang was ready to burst a blood vessel. 

“Commander? It’s late. You’re tired. Let’s not jump to any rash conclusions. Dr. Vang is certainly not the perpetrator of this unseemly crime. There are fifty witnesses at least who will tell you that he came back inside from finding the body, cigarette in hand, white as a sheet because of what he had seen,” Governor Denning defended. 

“I didn’t get the chance to light my cigarette. I stepped out. I saw the body. I panicked. He was there when I emerged from the building! Stretched out where you found him! I didn’t lay a hand on him!” Vang exclaimed. 

“Don’t leave the island,” Steve menaced. He gave Danny back the pad and pen, and fished his phone from his pocket. “My apologies, sir. Dr. Bergman requires our immediate presence. If you’ll excuse us.” 

“Keep me abreast of all developments.”

“Of course, sir,” Steve replied. He gave a slight bow to the Governor, and gave Vang a challenging smirk.


	4. Amicus

“Slow down, babe,” Danny pleaded, hanging on for dear life. 

“Max said the situation was urgent,” Steve answered, eyes straight ahead as he gripped the steering wheel. 

“Steve!” Danny punctuated the shout by reaching over and grabbing at a fistful of the SEAL’s teeshirt in the middle of his chest. McGarrett grumbled, and slowed down, but only because they were presently careening into the parking lot.

“You can open your eyes now,” Steve teased, patting Danny’s furry forearm. There were wrinkles in Steve’s clothes when Danny let go. McGarrett pushed open the door and stuck out a leg. The yellow parking guide line on the pavement was perpendicular to the car. 

“Wait!” Danny demanded.

“What?” 

“You gonna tell me what that was all about back there?” 

“What?” 

“You know what I’m talking about.” 

“What?” Steve laughed a little this time. He had every idea, damn him. 

“You didn’t say two syllables for twenty minutes, while I was questioning Doctor Fang, and…” 

“Doktor Vang,” Steve corrected pedantically. 

“Whatever. Then when you finally finished humping the display case, you started questioning the guy, and then you didn’t let me get a word in edgewise.” 

“You were welcome to join in, but I gotta say, Danno, frankly he was walking all over you. Can we go inside now?” 

“No. Since when are you an expert on tenth century runic alphabets?” 

Steve fought with a smile as he pried Danny’s fingers off his arm this time, and held onto his hand. 

“If I say ‘classified’, are you going to punch me?” 

“I might,” Danny nodded. 

“Can I tell you on the way to Max’s lab?” 

“No. You can tell me right now,” Danny demanded petulantly. He let go of Steve and opened his notebook. “What do the runes mean?” 

“ ‘CMDR S.O.S. CMDR S.O.S.’,” Steve read Max’s text to Danny. Williams put away the notebook. 

“In fifty words or less, explain your knowledge of Viking runic alphabets,” Danny demanded. 

“I took an elective course at the Academy,” Steve lied with a brilliant smile. He climbed out of the car and headed for the building at top speed. Danny followed, stifling a yawn. 

Steve was wearing a wicked grin as he entered the dimly-lit, vacant building. He retrieved his gun and prowled around the corners on his toes. 

“What are you doing?” Danny asked, dialing Max’s number and holding the phone to his ear. He walked casually down the middle of the hallway, sneering at Steve’s cautious approach.

“Making sure the coast is clear,” Steve said as he withdrew into a bank of shadows, and was nothing more than a silhouette and one blue-hazel eye.

“Steve, it’s one in the morning. We’re probably the only living souls in the building at this point.” 

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Steve agreed grimly. 

“Max isn’t picking up,” Danny announced. 

“That’s not good.” 

Side by side, they went around the corner and pushed on the door to Dr. Bergman’s lab. Danny was holding his phone, and Steve was waving around his gun. They spotted Max, and holstered their instruments in unison. 

“Gentlemen?” Max murmured, adjusting the slide on the microscope, and staring up at the blood sample enlarged on the screen on the wall. 

“Doc? Howzit?” Steve asked, making the thumb and pinkie hand-wiggle gesture. 

“It is well. May I help you?” 

“We got your text. What’s the big emergency?” Danny wondered. “Why aren’t you picking up your phone?” 

“I have my phone turned off, to avoid being disturbed,” Max replied pointedly. 

“Are we disturbing you?” Danny asked peevishly. “You’re the one who texted us.” 

“I most certainly did not,” Max denied. Steve snorted softly. 

“Do you mind if we step into the morgue? We need to verify a couple points about the case,” McGarrett asked. 

“Help yourself. Mr. Valencia is in drawer 4-B. His compatriot, Mr. Jones, is in drawer 3-B.” 

“Thanks, Max. Sorry to interrupt your work,” Steve apologized, tiptoeing towards the morgue doors, tugging Danny by one sleeve. 

“What's wrong with him?” Danny whispered. "Does he seem a bit spacey to you?" 

As they approached the large metal portals, Steve stopped again. He bent down to whisper to Danny. 

“Beyond these doors, you must obey me in all commands.” 

“What?” Danny snickered. 

“I’m serious. Your life may well depend on it.” 

“Yeah, babe, whatever. What is wrong with Max?”

“I suspect he’s been enthralled. It doesn’t hurt. It’s a precautionary measure. He’ll wake up in a few hours, and remember nothing of this night.” 

Danny stared up at Steve, and made a face like he had something sour on his tongue. Why was Steve speaking so strangely? 

Then something amiss behind Steve caught Danny’s eye. The SEAL was standing in the exact middle of the two swinging doors, holding tight to the handles. The doors were being pulled gently backwards. There was a cold, black eye peering through the growing space between the doors. Danny’s jaw fell as his eyes bulged wide. 

“Amicus?” a deep voice asked from inside the morgue. (Friend)

“Frater,” Steve answered with a faint smile without turning around. (Brother)

A very large, very pale hand emerged, and the long fingers gripped the back of Steve’s neck. McGarrett squinted in annoyance, and smacked at the hand. 

“Petrus, a moment please?” 

The hand retreated to the tune of melodic, deep laughter. The doors closed again. Heavy footsteps slapped the tile floor. 

“Danny, beyond these doors…” Steve repeated. 

“Whothefuckwasthat?” Danny breathed in one syllable, his voice high and tight.

Max glanced up from his microscope.

“Is everything all right, gentlemen?” 

“Sorry, Max! Everything is okay!” Steve called out, his voice carrying across the space. Max turned back to his microscope. Danny shoved past Steve, and pushed the double doors open with a bang. Steve winced and followed. 

Danny paced around the dark and empty morgue, eyes in every corner at once. He snapped his gun from the holster and walked back and forth, peering under tables, over tables, around tables. Nothing. He stared questioningly back at Steve, who was standing at the entrance, head tilted to look up at the ceiling. McGarrett reached sideways and flipped on the light. 

Williams instinctively hit the floor, and fired a shot at the red-eyed man stretched out on the ceiling. Danny rolled under a table and adjusted his aim to avoid hitting Steve. Why was his partner standing between Danny and the big, naked and very alive, goth dude?!

The first shot had penetrated the big man’s chest. He stretched out a leg and rotated gracefully to bridge the distance between the ceiling and the floor. He gave the hole in his chest a curious glance, watching it disappear as he healed before their very eyes. 

“STEVE! LOOK OUT!”

Danny’s second shot passed the tip of Steve’s shoulder, leaving a red streak before clipping the looming figure. The big man was reaching both hands towards McGarrett’s neck as the second bullet caught him higher in the chest, closer to the collarbone. 

“Danny, put that gun down before you hurt somebody,” Steve scolded. 

“No weapons in the morgue, gentlemen!” Max called out from the other room.

The looming man rolled his left shoulder, a smoldering annoyance growing on his face as the second wound healed as quickly as the first. 

“How many shots does his pistolé hold, Scotch?” 

“Thirteen,” Steve replied. 

“Will he use them all before he calms down?” the big man grinned. Steve couldn’t decide if he wanted to giggle or not. He raised both hands between himself and the drawn weapon. 

“Danny, it’s okay.” 

“STEVEN?! GET OUT OF THE WAY!”

“Danny, it’s all right. Put the gun down before Max comes in here to investigate,” Steve warned. 

“So tiny. So deadly. I like him,” the big man murmured, nose in Steve’s ear for a moment before he drew his eyes, and then his tongue, over the wound on McGarrett’s shoulder. Steve shuddered and gasped in surprise. 

“Petrus, quit breathing on my neck,” Steve chided. 

“STEVE?!” Danny pleaded. 

“It’s okay,” Steve promised again, squatting down to peer at his hyperventilating partner. 

“Shall I?” Petrus asked, getting down on one knee. Steve turned and put a hand over the big man’s eyes. 

“No, Petrus, you may not enthrall my partner.” 

“Very well,” Petrus pouted. 

“Danny?” 

Steve yelped and flattened himself to the floor as Danny scrambled out past him, wrapping both arms around the neck of the creature, dragging him backwards and down nearly in half. 

“Run, Steve, run!” Danny screamed. 

“Petrus, no, stop, goddamn it,” Steve scolded as the man plucked Danny forward over one shoulder as if removing a writhing backpack. Petrus held Danny aloft by the nape of his neck. “Petrus. Put him down.” 

Danny hit the floor again. Steve pulled his partner up and back. 

“Be calm. Take a breath. It’s okay,” he promised again. 

“What the hell is going on here?” Danny demanded, yanking on Steve’s neck.

“Danny, this is Petrus," Steve motioned amicably towards the big man. 

“Danny." The big man bowed in a courtly manner which would have been appropriate centuries ago. 

“Petrus?” Danny replied, a thin, chilly smile pulling his mouth sideways. 

“Do you want to guard the doors, stand outside?” Steve asked when Danny loosened his choke hold. 

“Are you crazy? I’m not leaving you alone with….with…. whatever the hell he is,” Danny growled. “Why are we not running?” 

“Petrus won’t hurt you.” 

“I will if he keeps shooting him,” Petrus remarked. “You have a wound in your shoulder, Scotch. It might do well for you to cover it. I find myself growing most distracted by the scent of your blood.” 

“Sorry,” Steve said, putting a hand over the red streak. 

“Not that this isn’t diverting. I confess, it never gets old,” Petrus smirked. “But time is of the essence, as they say.” 

“What brings you to Hawaii? Doktor Vang?” 

“No. But I will deal with the grave robber, by and by. The Mistress bid me seek you out. She has need of your particular services.” 

“Mistress? Services?” Danny demanded, getting in front of Steve and pushing him back against one of the table. “Steven?! I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he’s a goddamn…..” Danny panted. 

“We don’t use the V word,” Petrus warned with a frown. 

“Sorry,” Steve apologized. "He doesn't know." 

“What am I supposed to call you?” Danny asked, shoulders and arms moving again.

“McGarrett, there is no time." 

“I figured as much,” Steve grunted. 

“The Mistress is most desperate for your help.”

“I am hers to command, of course. What does she require of me?” 

“Steve?” Danny whispered, tugging on the back hem of McGarrett’s shirt. 

“Yeah, Danno?” Steve asked. 

“No, Steve.” 

“Danny, you don’t understand.” 

“No, Steve," Danny insisted more sternly.

“I am bound by blood oath. I cannot and will not refuse her request, whatever she may require. The Mistress saved my life when I was in desperate need, and besides that, she’s an old friend. As is Petrus.”

Danny blinked at Steve, slowly stared at Petrus, and then returned his gaze to Steve. Fear was making Danny’s breathing audible once more. 

“How old a friend are we talking, Steven?” 

Danny was backing slowly away. 

“No, no, no, no,” Steve soothed, finally understanding why every hair was standing up on Danny's head, more than usual. “Human, totally human, totally not…no…not what you’re thinking, Danno. No,” he rambled. Steve reached out and put both hands on Danny’s biceps. “You’ve seen me in full sunlight. You know how much I love garlic shrimp. Am I right?”

“ ‘Kay,” Danny nodded, relaxing. “I just… you know? Needed to ask….”

" 'Kay," Steve agreed, patting Danny's arms gently. 

Petrus swallowed a chuckle which could have once inhabited the dark recesses of a very black tomb. 

“I need my dagger and my mother’s crucifix back from the little man with glasses.” 

“Dr. Bergman. Max. I'll talk to him,” Steve nodded. 

“The Mistress bid me bring you, if you did agree to meet. But I do not believe it would be wise to bring your friend,” Petrus warned. 

“I’m not leaving him here,” Steve said at the same time Danny bellowed, “You’re not leaving me here!”

“It could be dangerous for him,” Petrus warned.

“I’ll protect him. Danny comes with me.”

“Why?” Petrus wondered impatiently. 

“He’s my backup,” Steve smiled hopefully at Danny. 

“Very well,” Petrus sighed. “Bring him along. He may stand in as your second. But he is your responsibility.” 

“Understood,” Steve agreed with a bright smile. He clapped a reassuring hand on Danny's shoulder. 

"Your wound, Scotch. You will need to dress it before we go." 

"Of course."


	5. Date at Midnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's already after midnight in the timeline, but the title fit, so..... =)

“Mr. Rolfsson, we’re going to have to ask you to wear clothes when you’re in the hotel lobby.” 

Danny, Steve, and Petrus froze mid-motion in the center of the pristine carpeted floor. They pivoted in synch towards the front desk they were attempting to creep past. First glance had made them believe the coast was clear. How wrong they were! A small woman was perched there at the long, thin front desk, like a bird on a branch in a tree. She had a wraith-like frame and a smile as faint as distant music on the wind. 

“My apologies, Gertrude,” Petrus said as he bowed to her. 

“Not at all,” she responded, using a pointy skewer of wood to scratch at the gray bun on top of her head. She had long nails tipped in silver, and a delicate voice which managed to be soothing and authoritative at the same time. 

Steve reached sideways to a nearby chair, and picked up a small pillow. McGarrett handed the pillow to Petrus, maneuvering it towards his friend’s naked midsection. Petrus stared at Steve, raising a brow in amusement. 

“You will need to register your guests before you can take them upstairs.”

“Miss Gertrude, we are in a terrible rush. The Mistress is expecting us,” Petrus protested. 

“Rules are rules, Mr. Rolfsson.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Petrus nudged Steve and Danny towards the desk. The wisp of a woman moved with a rustle of parchment and paper, producing a large, vellum book for them. Danny cocked his head, and had a vague flashback to his days as a cop in Jersey. 

“Are those fingerprints?” he asked. 

“Your hand, please,” the woman requested. 

Steve slid his big paw into her tiny grip. She used her wooden skewer, and struck with pinpoint accuracy, drawing a drop of blood from the tip of his left thumb. Then she pressed Steve’s finger to the vellum page. Steve signed his name under his angled fingerprint, watching another drop well up on his thumb pad. 

Petrus hummed hungrily. He moved forward, and his long hand tightened around Steve’s forearm. He moaned sensually as he pulled the leaking thumb into his mouth. McGarrett watched Petrus with more sangfroid than most would have managed under the circumstances.

“Petrus, you’re going to enthrall me if you aren’t careful,” Steve murmured, handing the pen to Danny. 

The large man only sucked harder. Danny frowned, and Steve gave him a helpless grimace and shrug. Petrus was a foot taller and at least a hundred pounds heavier than Steve, so if push came to shove, there was no way McGarrett was getting his digit back intact using only brute force. This was going to involve sweet persuasion, and maybe a tiny bit of begging. 

“Sorry, but I’m a taken man,” Steve cautioned. 

Those words loosened Petrus’s mouth from around the base of McGarrett’s thumb. Petrus traced the tip of his tongue up the length before reluctantly letting go of Steve. 

“You should be taken, Scotch. Often, and with great vigor,” Petrus purred. 

Steve rasped lustfully before he darted his eyes as Danny. His partner’s China blue eyes glinted angrily. Oh, but Steve had some explaining to do later! 

“Keep your hands and teeth to yourself, you gigantic jackass,” Danny muttered acidly back over one shoulder. 

Williams presented his hand to the ancient woman behind the counter. She pricked him, and pressed his print to the page next to Steve’s. Danny’s mark was slightly crooked too, and at the opposite angle from Steve’s. The bottom edges of each touched. The cooling blood mingled together. Danny demonstrated his annoyance by dotting the I’s in Williams harder than necessary. But the very next second, he warmed all over, and a smile bloomed. He realized that he and Steve had unconsciously formed a lopsided heart with their angled thumbprints. 

Petrus was glancing back and forth between Steve and Danny. Understanding was beginning to dawn in his eyes. 

“Oh,” Petrus murmured. 

“What?” Steve whispered defensively.

“Isn’t that an interesting development?” Petrus cocked a brow and smirked. 

“You may go upstairs now. But remember the rules. You break it, you bought it. You spill it, you clean it up. You kill it, you bury it,” Gertrude warned. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Petrus nodded. 

They crossed the lobby, Petrus bringing up the rear, chuckling in a dark and sinister fashion. Danny’s eyes travelled up and down the intersecting hallways, wondering at the quiet. This being the dead of night, one would have imagined much more excitement and noise, if this hotel was indeed an abode of the damned.

“This is nice. It’s not what I expected. But it’s very nice,” Danny commented in an attempt to make friendly conversation as the door to the elevator opened slowly before them. 

“Yup,” Steve agreed with a nervous nod, eyes glued to Petrus. 

It was the longest and quietest elevator ride in recorded history. Petrus stood to one side, back to the wall, eyes glued accusingly to Steve. Danny stood unconsciously between Petrus and Steve. Steve kept staring straight ahead at the silver doors, arms crossed over his chest, struggling to keep his breathing even. 

“Are we there yet?” Steve said, offering a small, awkward laugh which crawled away into the corner and died a slow death. Danny elbowed Steve in the gut. Petrus and Danny were busy glaring at one another. Petrus had dispensed with his pillow. He was wearing the crucifix and carrying the dagger, fingering the blade in a vaguely threatening manner. 

The elevator rocked when it reached the designated floor. The doors opened. Steve bolted out on catlike feet. Petrus was a half-second behind him, scooping up his elbow. He pulled Steve to a quick stop. 

“You have deceived me, Steven.” 

“How have I deceived you?” 

“I believed you were an herbivore, not a carnivore, as it were.” 

“I’ve come to realize that I’m more of an omnivore,” Steve offered with a tiny, helpless, charming smile. 

“Hmph,” Petrus snorted derisively, letting go of his elbow with a snap. 

Danny hurried to catch up to Steve. Milling around in the wide common area were scores of people in a variety of dress. Military and civilian. From every corner of the globe. Every single eye in the place turned to the trio of men. Maybe it was because Petrus Rolfsson was stark naked. Or maybe it was because of Steve and Danny, heads held high, following Petrus through the crowd towards the hallway at the other end, headed east. 

Steve adopted a more formal mode of speech with Danny for a moment. 

“May I offer two words of caution?” 

“Yes?” Danny whispered back. 

“Do not stare too long into anyone’s eyes, and be very careful who you slow dance with.” 

“There will be dancing?” Danny bubbled. Steve raised a brow, but did not elaborate. Maybe he was speaking euphemistically? 

They walked a carpet of whispers and stares. As Petrus stalked angrily through the crowd, a woman came through the parting throng to greet them. Her flowing red-auburn-black curls were escaping the bejeweled clasp at the back of her neck. She had deep brown eyes and a tawny skin tone, with a wide nose and pointy chin. There was a sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Danny would have dated her emerald green gown to the mid eighteenth-century. She had the air of both pirate and aristocrat about her. 

Petrus bowed to the woman. She bowed back, left hand resting on the pommel of the gorgeous rapier on her left hip, right hand holding the far end of the scabbard on her other side. She let go of the weapon, and whipped off her long cloak with a whirl and twirl. She handed the draping material to Petrus. 

“The Mistress must not see you like this.” 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Petrus responded puckishly. 

“Frater, I insist.” 

“If it pleases you, my lady,” Petrus said, tucking the cloak around his waist and buckling the rondelles. The woman tittered softly as Petrus let the sides of the cloak frame his manhood dramatically, rather like a theatre curtain. She sighed at him, grasped the collar of the cloak, and shifted it sideways around Petrus’s waist, so the rondelles rested along one of Petrus’s hips. Now one long leg stuck out instead. 

"That'll do. Where are your clothes, Petrus?" 

"I was avoiding the ever-seeing eyes." 

"You'd strut around naked every day if the Mistress let you." 

Steven bowed to the woman, and she curtseyed in reply. Danny was relieved to see friendly recognition in her face. 

“It is you, is it not? How pleasant to see you again,” she murmured, her eyes full of affection. “I would the circumstances were not so dire, amicus.” 

“It pleases me to see you as well." 

McGarrett took the woman’s hand, bowed to kiss it, and stood gracefully again. 

“You’ve grown a few inches,” she beamed. Her eyes went up and down Steve’s body. “You’re taller too,” she added playfully. 

Steve blushed and laughed in reply. 

“The Mistress will be so glad you accepted her request.”

Her eyes darted to Danny, and she waited impatiently for Steve to speak. 

“Addie, this is my second, my colleague, and my dear friend, Detective Sergeant Daniel Albert Williams. Danno, this is Adeline Emmerly O’Riley." 

“Nice to meet you, babe,” Danny said. He shook her hand rather than kissing it. Steve cleared his throat to indicate his disapproval. Danny smiled, stood his ground, and revelled in knowing he had annoyed McGarrett by not playing along with the formal manner of speech.

“Is the detective sergeant also a member of the local constabulary?” Addie asked. 

“Yes. He is my partner,” Steve replied. 

“Daniel, you speak in a manner unfamiliar, with an accent which I do not recognize,” Addie decided. 

“I’m from New Jersey,” Danny said blandly. Addie’s eyes filled with sympathy and confusion. 

“He is very far from home,” Steve explained. 

“As are we all. New Jersey. I do believe I have heard of it. Daniel, I bid you be welcome.” 

“Thanks, babe,” Danny replied, grinning at Steve’s impatience that he wouldn’t at least attempt Addie’s manner of speech. 

“Dire circumstances?” Steve asked.

“Petrus did not explain?” 

“Petrus was instructed not to explain,” the large man loomed into their conversation. 

“I will bring you to the Mistress straight away. How long has it been?” 

“Nearly twenty years.”

“How time flies!” Addie gasped. 

“For some of us,” Steve added dryly. Addie tittered, and tugged him by the arm. 

Danny followed, nerves tingling. It was very disconcerting– the way everyone kept staring as they were led through the common area. But the staring-down they had received previously was nothing compared to what awaited them at the head of the hallway where Addie was guiding them. 

A retinue of young soldiers pranced around like high-spirited horses in a paddock. One in particular stood out from the others. He was dressed in an expensive costume of the same era as O’Riley. He sneered at Petrus, and Petrus sneered back, as the big man stalked right through the cluster of military men. The young soldier and his friends circled back together, nostrils flaring, eyes filling with hatred to the point that they nearly glowed. 

“Be gone, wench. I will take them from here,” the young soldier hissed. 

“Call me ‘wench’ once more, boy, and I will take a birch branch to your flanks,” Addie warned. 

“You will address me as ‘Lord Somerduck’. Do not forget your place, Adeline.”

O’Riley growled malevolently at the young lord. The other soldiers all took a step back and lowered their eyes at the dangerous noise Addie was making. Lord Somerduck raised his hand. O’Riley touched the hilt of her rapier and smiled slyly at him.

“Give it a go, Ducky.” 

“DO NOT ADDRESS ME AS SUCH!” 

Addie quacked at him. Lord Somerduck lunged forward, but stopped suddenly at the tip of Addie’s blade on his Adam's apple. She quacked again playfully. Somerduck was flushing red. 

“Richard, do remember yourself.”

The new voice had come from the shadows in the hallway. Petrus was bent down nearly in half to support someone who was clutching the wall with one thin hand. Lord Somerduck backed away from O’Riley. Everyone bowed to the woman approaching. Steve was overcome with a sudden bashful smile at first, but that bashful smile faded to alarm all too quickly. 

“Richard, if you ever strike Addie, I will end your life. Do I make myself clear?” 

The lady in the shadows spoke with a British accent, and breathed with a labored rasp. She was having trouble walking. Petrus made as if to pick her up, and she whispered a word or two to him. 

“Yes, Mistress,” Petrus bowed. He let go of her entirely, but hovered protectively close to her. 

“Lucy, your wench continually reaches above her station,” Somerduck continued in a peevish whine. 

“Her station? Richard, let me be clear. Adeline O’Riley has been my confidante, my friend, more dear to me than a sister, since before you were a twinkle of mischief in your father’s eye. You would do well to remember that I hold her in affection above all others, even you.” 

“Yes, Mistress.” 

“Take your friends, and withdraw,” the lady ordered. 

“But, Lucy,” Lord Somerduck complained, sounding very young and very sulky.

“Do as I say, Richard.” 

“Yes, Mistress.” 

Lord Somerduck bowed low, and he and his soldiering friends circled together.

“She won’t be here to protect you forever,” Somerduck warned Addie between clenched teeth, his back turned to the Mistress.

“She’s not protecting me, bucko. She’s protecting you,” Addie remarked. 

Somerduck and his friends pushed their way into the crowd in the common area but did not get very far away at all. 

“ ‘Tis most unfortunate that you interrupted our exchange, Mistress. I keenly anticipate unmanning his lordship," Addie murmured. 

“Be cautious of him, dearest.” 

“Yes, Mistress,” Addie bowed. 

The Mistress emerged into the light, and Danny caught his breath. Steve moved forward and put out both hands to her, kneeling at her feet. It was more about supporting the staggering woman than any show of obedience. Steve cast a terrified glance at Petrus as the looming man flowed in one step to the Mistress’s side. 

“What has happened to you, Mistress?” Steve asked. "Who hurt you?" 

“Do not kneel for me. Stand tall, Steven. Let me look at you.”

Steve rose up as she had commanded. The Mistress was a wraith of bed clothes and bloody bandages. She was held aloft only by determination and pride. 

“You are a feast for the eyes,” she declared. Steve kissed her cold hands. She stroked his cheek, her golden rings glittering in the light. 

“You are not well, Mistress,” Steve decided. "You should be in bed." 

“No, I am not well, dear boy,” she admitted. “Look at you. My, how you’ve grown.”

“What happened? Who dared hurt you?” Steve demanded. 

“The years look very good on you. You have filled out most pleasingly.”

“Mistress, who has hurt you? I will hunt them down, and make them pay for their transgression against you,” Steve swore. 

“I think not, dear boy,” the Mistress mused, petting Steve’s cheek again. “Steven McGarrett, where are your manners? Be a love. Make quick work of your introductions, so that we may withdraw to speak more privately.” 

The lady centered her gaze on Danny, and Williams made the mistake of gazing into her brown eyes, the same color as Addie’s, he noted right away. They had the same chin, the same eyes, the same smile. For a second, there was a silvery glimmer in the chocolate depths of her gaze. Danny caught his breath, his heart stilled, and a sweet warmth flooded his veins. He was rooted to the spot until Steve crossed between him and the lady from the shadows. McGarrett was waving fingers and whistling softly. 

“Danno?” Steve whispered, patting Danny’s cheek. Williams shook his head and cleared the cobwebs from his brain. 

“My apologies,” the Mistress sighed. 

“Detective Sergeant Daniel Williams. The Lady Lucille Strickrott,” Steve said quickly. 

“Ma’am,” Williams nodded, shaking her hand as he had done with Addie. She was very bemused by the handshake. Danny was shocked by how cold her grip was. There was a drip of fresh blood and a hint of burned skin under the lace cuff of the hand which she extended. 

“Call me Lucy. Is that not the done thing these days? No formalities. No titles. You shall be ‘Danno’, and I shall be ‘Lucy’.” 

“Fair enough,” Danny nodded. 

“Do not peer directly into my eyes. I will not think you rude, I promise. Steven, it was not wise to bring him.” 

“Forgive me, Mistress, but I am loathe to be apart from him.” 

“They’re carnivores,” Petrus interjected derisively. 

“Oh,” the Mistress nodded in understanding. 

“Omnivore,” Steve corrected. Petrus wrinkled his nose, and sneered like a peeved sibling at Steve. 

"Neither here nor there. You are most welcome, Danno."

"Thank you, Lucy." 

“Steven, I am no longer the Lady Strickrott, you should know.” 

“Have you lost another husband? What happened to Lord Strickrott?” Steve asked, wondering why the Mistress was avoiding talking about what had happened, why she was at Death's Door. Maybe she didn't want to discuss it in front of all these other people? He tried to be cheerful and amusing for her sake, but there was a cold ring of desperation in both their tones. 

“He met with an angry mob in Pittsburgh some years back.” 

“My sympathies. But you have remarried. You do wear a ring.” 

“Bought by my own hand. I decided ‘twould be better to buy myself the diamonds, and save a good deal of fuss and bother,” Lucy mused. 

“What is one to make then of dear Richard, Lord Somerduck?” Steve persisted. McGarrett gazed into the crowd to find the boy in question storming around, strutting and muttering for his friends as he gave Steve and Danny a very moody eye-fucking indeed.

“Richard is an amusement to pass the time. A hot-headed boy I did own for no more than the twist of a wrist and a flick of the tongue.” 

Steve cleared his throat, and shot Lucy a pained look. “A tale most familiar,” McGarrett pouted. 

“Do not dare feel sympathy for him,” the lady warned. 

“How can I not?” Steve replied. 

“He is nothing like you were,” Lucy murmured. 

“But yet...” 

“Nothing like. Come. Let us withdraw. We have much to discuss. In private though. Your friend may safely amuse himself here. There are any number of ladies who would welcome such charming company. I do like your smile very much, Detective.”

“Thanks, babe,” Danny beamed. “My smile is up here,” he added as Lucy’s eyes caressed the rest of his frame. 

“Remember…..” Steve started to say. 

“Don’t look anyone in the eyes, and don’t slow dance with them. Got it,” Danny nodded. 

“Be careful,” Steve whispered earnestly. 

“Addie, if you would be so kind as to amuse the Detective Sergeant?” the lady requested politely. 

“Of course, Mistress. But be brief, I beg you, madam. Do not dally. Ducky’s feathers do bristle most egregiously. I fear you may have wounded his pride.” 

“If that boy presses me, I will extinguish him.” 

Steve followed Lucy into the hallway of shadows. A shout of alarm from Addie drew them both back around in mere seconds. Danny was lying on the ground, holding his mouth, blinking blindly in surprise. Addie had her rapier out again. She was straddling and protecting Williams. Petrus couldn't decide between supporting the Mistress or moving to intervene. 

“God Above! What is this nonsense?” the Mistress shouted. The strain of it made her catch herself. Petrus let go of her and got up in Lord Somerduck’s face, pushing him backward. Steve extended a hand down to Danny, drawing him back to his feet. Williams was shaking his head, removing more cobwebs. He had a vague impression that he had seen a silvery glow from Somerduck's eyes before he had struck. 

“I never even saw him move,” Danny swore, pulling himself up to his full height and lunging past Steve. McGarrett barely held his friend back. “Come here, you little punk! Why don’t you try that again?” 

“Take each other’s hand and make friends, gentlemen. I will not have this unseemly display of temper spoil everyone’s evening,” Lucy commanded. 

“Why did you hit him?” Steve asked Somerduck. 

“He did make merry at me with his eyes,” Lord Somerduck pouted. 

“Oh, honestly, Ducky!” Addie exclaimed. "Rein in your pride for once, will you?" 

The Mistress breathed heavily in warning as she said, "The next man to promenade his pride before me will have it summarily removed." 

"Yes, ma'am," Steve bowed. 

"Yes, ma'am," Somerduck echoed. 

“You should not have let him bring anyone else,” Lucy chided Petrus tenderly. 

“I warned him against it, but he would not listen,” Petrus sulked. 

Addie circled silently to place her rapier between Somerduck and the other soldiering lads who were beginning to gather around the two humans, as if angling in for attack. 

“Stay where you are, Richard. You and your friends,” Lucy warned. 

"I would speak with you privately, Mistress?" 

"Speak here, and be quick." 

“Send them away. I command it.”

“Richard, do not test my patience tonight." 

“I can do this for you. I promise you, I can.” 

“No, Richard. You may not. You cannot. You will not. Do I make myself clear?” 

“Mistress, please let me do you this final favor,” Lord Somerduck begged. 

“It is forbidden.” 

“But, Mistress, to ask a human to do this for you?” 

“He is an amicus, Richard.” 

“He is a human,” Somerduck whined. 

"He is a trusted friend," the Mistress was straining to breathe and speak. A growing stain bloomed across her left shoulder and chest. She sat down on the floor with a thump. Somerduck dropped to his knees too in sympathy, crawling towards her. 

“Forgive me, Mistress. I do not mean to distress you. Forgive me. Forgive me.” 

“Kiss my hand, and you are forgiven, dear boy,” the Mistress promised. Lord Richard leapt to her side, kissed her bandaged cheek, and helped her to her feet. 

“Forgive me, Mistress. I wish only to make myself useful to you, while I still may." 

“Withdraw and behave, Richard." 

“Mistress, please. Let me at least find your sister for you. I can do at least that much," Somerduck entreated.

“No, Richard. You haven't the stomach to do what must be done." 

“I can. I will. I promise, I'll find a way to do it, if it will please you." 

"No, Richard. You may not take her life, even in retribution for her offense again my person."

"Oh, no, no, no," Steve grumbled. 

"Let me at least find Eleanor for you. I have scoured every inch of this god-forsaken spit of land. I swear to you, your sister is not here. I fear she has fled back to the Caribbean, or to Ireland. Give me permission to expand my search. Let me seek her out, bring her back to face justice," Somerduck pleaded. 

“Oh…fuck...me....” Steve groaned in pain. Danny was surprised at the intensity of Aneurysm Face McGarrett was making. Steve crossed his arms over his chest. Petrus was smirking. “Did that ungrateful little bitch attack you again?” Steve demanded.

“Language, young man,” the Mistress scolded. 

"I should have guessed it was Nellie. It's always about Nellie, isn't it?" Steve snickered ruefully. 

“The situation is most delicate, most political.”

"You want me to track her down?" 

“Partially, yes, that's why I need you.” 

"Why else would you....need....." Steve's eyes went back and forth between the Mistress and Somerduck. “Maybe you’d better start from the beginning,” McGarrett suggested, motioning back down the hallway. The Mistress turned, plodded along, straining with each step. 

“I would have told you it was about Eleanor, but I feared you would not come." 

“You have only to ask, whatever you need. You know that, Lucy,” Steve chided. 

"Petrus. My pride will bend now. Please." 

The looming man lifted the Mistress up into his grasp, carrying her along. Steve grabbed Danny's arm, and pulled him quickly behind. Addie followed, closing the door to the room behind her tight.


	6. We Sisters Two

“Would either of you care for a drink?” Addie asked, picking up a bottle from a liquor cabinet, and plucking out the cork. “I remember well your fondness for scotch, Steven. Might I tempt you?” 

“No. I shouldn’t. I need to keep my wits about me,” Steve replied. 

“And you, Danno?” Addie smiled at Danny. 

“Are we….are we going to just…..we are, aren’t we?” Danny sputtered at Steve. 

McGarrett replied a quick nod. Danny folded far quicker than usual, perhaps persuaded by the unreality of the entire situation. He wasn’t entirely convinced he wasn’t home dreaming. 

“Make it a double, sister,” Danny replied to Addie.

Petrus carried Lucy to an ornate settee which was positioned close to an open window. Breezes were moving the curtains, making them seem like wavering ghosts. Steve stood anxiously by, not knowing what to do with himself, how to help, how to be useful. Danny couldn’t help but wonder if that was due to Steve’s natural ‘protect and serve’ instincts, or if at some point in their previous acquaintance, Lucy had enthralled the beejesus out of the big SEAL. 

“Tell me what happened,” Steve persuaded, sitting on the edge of the settee and taking Lucy’s ghostly-white hand. 

“Nellie and I fought.” 

“There is never a time when two are not at odds,” Steve responded, glancing her up and down. Though the light was dim, it was clear Lucy was in terrible shape. She was bandaged head to toe under her lace and silk nightclothes, and the bandages were dotted here and there with patches of blood. 

Danny accepted the drink from Addie. She poured herself one too. They followed each other (you first, no please you) towards the settee. Petrus stalked around the vast suite, bringing a glass of water, a damp cloth, a pair of slippers, and a book. He left these things one by one at Lucy’s side, rather like a golden retriever might have done. 

“Why did you and Eleanor fight?” Steve asked. 

Danny took a quick swallow, and it burned like fire. He inhaled, and the burn spread from his throat throughout his entire chest. He dropped the cut-glass tumbler as he gasped for breath. Steve caught the glass, steadied Danny, and then sniffed at the contents of the tumbler.

“How old is that?” Steve wondered. 

Addie sniffed her own tumbler. 

“1784,” she smiled blithely.

“You could power a rocket with that!” Steve warned Danny, giving him back the glass after taking an experimental sip. 

“Four weeks ago, we arrived in Hawaii,” Lucy started with a sigh. 

“Mistress, you should be honest with Steven if you want his help,” Petrus chided deeply. Lucy met Petrus’s eyes, and shrugged tiredly. 

“You’re right. Of course, you’re right. Four weeks ago, I followed Nellie to Hawaii. We, all of us, we followed her here,” Lucy amended. 

“Why did she come here?” Steve asked. 

Lucy balked. Petrus nudged her. Addie looked miserable and terribly dodgy. There was something afoot which none of them were ready to admit to Steve, and that left him with a very uneasy feeling.

“It’s almost her birthday, you know?” Addie offered. 

“Oh, God,” Steve sighed. “You followed her to Hawaii. Why in the world was she even in Hawaii?” 

“Erm….I….”

“Do not dissemble with me, Lucy,” Steve said flatly. 

“Oh, how you sound like my father when you say it like that,” Lucy tittered, then held her heart. “Dear Father. It would wound him greatly to know what a spoiled, selfish child his precious Nellie has become.” 

“Why is Nellie in Hawaii?” Steve asked.

“At first I did not know her reason for coming here. Nellie left London two weeks prior, quite unexpectedly. Petrus and Ulfie tracked her to Hawaii. We followed her discretely. I sent Petrus and Ulfie to Nellie’s rental house, inviting her to please come dine with me. We would kiss and make friends, and be dear sisters once more.” 

“She refused?” Steve asked. “Where is Ulfie, by the way?” 

“I haven’t any idea,” Petrus replied when Lucy gave him an inquiring stare. “We parted ways at the consulate. He has my clothes. He would do well to arrive soon,” Petrus muttered. 

“Nellie refused your dinner invitation?” Steve asked again. 

“She gladly accepted. I should have been suspicious.” 

“Yes, Mistress, you should have been,” Addie agreed grimly. 

“The dinner was pleasant. She went on and on about how much she missed me. I forgave her for slipping away from London.”

“You are making excuses for Nellie’s bad behavior again,” Addie chided even as she petted Lucy’s nearest slipper and toes. “That girl leaves destruction in her wake wherever she goes. She crept away in the middle of the day, and she stole from you.” 

“She took a few trifling jewels. She needed the money, I’m sure.”

“She took your favorite ring,” Addie said. 

“And the pearls,” Petrus interjected. 

“Was she upset because you asked her to return your things?” Steve asked. 

“No. I told her she could keep the pearls and the ring if she so wished. I do not mind – they are material trinkets. I said as much. The dinner went well, as I said. I honestly thought we had reached a truce. Nellie promised she would consider my offer of returning back to the fold. It’s not safe for her out there.”

“It’s not safe _**with her out there**_ ,” Petrus corrected. 

“That doesn’t explain why she hurt you,” Steve pressed. What weren’t they telling him? 

“Might I sum the matter up, Mistress? This could be quite a long tale if you don’t hurry along the path,” Petrus urged. 

“I will endeavor to make this a precise and concise retelling,” Lucy promised. “When Nellie left after dinner, I hoped to see her again soon. But I did not. I heard nothing for days and days.”

“What did you think?” Steve asked. 

“I had hoped she had secured a clandestine assignation with whichever young man she was in love with that week. She had made fast friends with one of Lord Somerduck’s new retainers. I decided I should give her space to have her fun. It is not the first time she has done such things. She is quite fickle, and easily distracted. I was certain she would return within a fortnight, when she grew bored with the young man. I needed only be patient.”

“You were hoping this was like Paris?” Steve asked. 

“Yes, Paris,” Lucy sniffed. 

“What happened in Paris?” Danny interrupted, raising his hand. 

“If I tell you about Paris, this tale will take all bloody night,” Lucy murmured. 

“If it will help us find your sister?” Danny shrugged. Lucy refused, staring at Steve in concern. Could Danny be trusted to know this? Had they not already discussed it, perhaps? Steve explained instead of Lucy.

“Nellie doesn’t know how to lay low and keep out of sight. She attracted the attention of someone who was smart enough to figure out what she actually was. She was kidnapped by gun runners who were going to sell her to the highest bidder in Hong Kong. I inadvertently rescued her before they could ship her out. She fell in love with me. She enthralled me. Tried to turn me. Couldn't do it on her own. Lucy saved my life, and that’s about it. Not much to tell,” McGarrett rambled. 

Steve lifted Danny’s glass and took another careful sip, waiting for his partner to process what he had said. Danny blinked at Steve, waving his hands, motioning for him to go back a bit. 

“You ‘inadvertently rescued her’?” Danny asked, using air quotes. 

“They had drugged and restrained Nellie, and put her in a shipping container bound for departure the next morning. She’s lucky my team was sent to the same warehouse to search for stolen weapons,” Steve said. 

“How do they get a drop on her in the first place?” Danny gulped. 

“We are not entirely invulnerable,” Petrus answered. 

“Garlic?” Danny tried to chuckle, but it died miserably. “What about crosses?” Danny pointed to Petrus’s crucifix. He caressed it lovingly. 

“I wear this in memory of my dear mother.”

“Holy water?” Danny wondered.

“If you can find it…” Lucy murmured. 

“Hard to come by these days,” Addie agreed.

“Daylight?” 

“Daylight will burn, but really, fire is much worse,” Lucy shuddered. 

“Decapitation is the only certain way to kill one of us,” Addie offered. 

“Back to Nellie and the whole shipping container incident,” Danny prompted Steve, who was petting Lucy’s hand gently. 

“My ops team was sent into the pier in question to search of illegal weapons shipments. Instead of decanting a crate of AK-47s, I released Nellie. She was mad as a wet cat. Enthralled me in two seconds flat,” Steve explained. 

“The thing with the eyes?” Danny asked. 

“The thing with the eyes, yes,” Steve answered Danny before Lucy sighed in irritation. 

“Much of this is your own fault, Steven.” 

“Not my fault,” Steve pouted. 

“You dangled a tasty tidbit before a hungry tigress,” Addie laughed. 

“Eleanor is sixteen. She falls in love the way a tree bends and twists with the strongest breeze,” Petrus interjected. Addie laughed. 

“She fell in love with you because you fed her,” Lucy retorted. “The act carries an emotional bond. There is a connection between you and her even now, after all these years.” 

“I didn’t feed her out of the kindness of my heart. She tricked me. I had a fresh knife wound on my wrist. She grabbed me, and curled up in my arms. I thought she was scared and wanted me to hold her. She bit my wound open instead.”

“Even hungry as she was, Nellie did not have enough strength to drain Steven on her own. She dragged him home to me. Imagine my surprise when my sister showed up, carrying him in her teeth,” Lucy mused. It was clear from the Mistress’s expression that it wasn’t an unpleasant memory for her, not the way her eyes caressed Steve from head to toe. Steve was turning bashful once more. 

“In her defense, she had been in that crate for several days,” Petrus offered begrudgingly. “She would have fed from whoever released her. You’re lucky she didn’t tear you limb from limb, Scotch.” 

“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Steve explained to Danny. 

“Nellie bit Steve but couldn’t drain him. She dragged Steve home. What then?” Danny asked Lucy. 

“Obviously I didn’t turn him either. I took one look in those big eyes, and…well…I couldn’t.”

“He was a pathetic, bedraggled child,” Addie recounted. 

“He looked too much like my dear son Edward. Constantly getting himself into one peril or another. I didn’t have the heart to end Steven’s life, nor to turn him,” Lucy mused, giving Steve a fond smile. “I nursed him back to health. It took weeks. We…. I…. we….” Lucy cleared her throat nervously, wondering what she might risk saying. 

Danny studied Steve. McGarrett took another sip from Danny’s glass, and offered his partner a tentative smile. 

“You rejected Nellie, but slept with Lucy,” Danny decided, cutting through all the bullshit and circuitous language. 

“No, but not for lack of trying," Petrus cooed maliciously. 

“We were drawn to one another, yes. There was indeed a certain attraction, a good deal of affection. But like the act of feeding, the act of making love would have bound Steven to me irretrievably. As fond as I am of him, I would never wound my sister so. Eleanor would never have forgiven me, nor should she have. There are certain lines one does not cross when it comes to family. Do you understand me?” Lucy stammered. 

“Completely,” Steve replied, bending down to kiss Lucy’s hands. 

“Oh My God! Babe, she is proof positive there is at least one woman alive who can resist your charms,” Danny teased. Steve wrinkled his nose, and his mouth tightened to a long line. Addie snorted as she refilled her glass. 

“Steven did not cause the rift between my sister and I, but he did not help the situation,” Lucy murmured. 

“It’s not Steven’s fault. You and Nellie have been squabbling for almost two hundred and fifty years,” Addie chuckled.

“I did not come between you on purpose,” Steve insisted. 

“Nellie had every reason to be angry with you, and even angrier with me. However accidentally, you played into her every fantasy from the moment you released her from her prison," Lucy said. 

“Quite accidentally,” Steve insisted. 

“And then when she could not turn you, and you did not share her affections, she was very put out with you.” 

“Indeed, she was,” Steve agreed. 

Petrus watched Danny and Steve sharing one glass. His moody, black eyes studied Steve. Petrus retrieved the decanter from the liquor cabinet. He refilled Danny’s glass as Lucy continued to speak. He retrieved another glass, filled it, and thrust it forcefully into Steve’s hands. His message was quite clear. 

“As you can imagine, Nellie was upset when Steven developed affections for me, and not for her,” Lucy explained. 

“You were easy to like. You weren’t trying to kill me,” Steve whispered.

“I thought it was more that she was nursing you,” Addie interjected. 

“You do have medical fetishes, there’s no denying that,” Danny whispered to Steve. McGarrett made a foul face but smiled at him the next second. 

“Nellie got upset over the situation, and she ran away from home,” Lucy said, wanting to hush Addie but not wanting to hurt her feelings by doing so. 

“She has a history of running away when she’s upset?” Danny prodded. 

“Yes, indeed, a long history,” Addie agreed. 

“That time, Petrus and Ulfie and Steven followed her, and brought her back home to me.” 

“It wasn’t nearly as easy as you make it sound,” Steve murmured. 

Petrus snorted darkly. “I have the scars to prove it.” 

“If I never again see the interior of the Parisian catacombs, it will be too soon. Mistress, you have yet to tell me how you were injured,” Steve pressed Lucy. 

“Must I spell it out for you?” Lucy asked. 

“Nellie came here to Hawaii. You followed. You had dinner, made friends, and you hoped she might come back home. But….?” Steve waited for her to fill in the blanks. Lucy refused. “Could she have left the island, as Lord Somerduck suggested?” 

“She could have jumped on any ship in the docks,” Danny nodded. 

“My sister would not seek passage on a sea-going vessel,” Lucy refused to believe.

“Why not?” Danny asked. 

“ ‘Tis a tale too long for tonight.”

“We need details if you want us to track your sister,” Danny urged. Steve gave him a grateful smile, and mouthed his thanks. 

“We came to walk this vale of sorrows because we were on a sea-going vessel in the first place. We were sent from England to the Caribbean by our father. Eleanor had been promised in marriage to a well-to-do friend of his who owned a spice island. Father had been invalided out of the Royal Navy because of an injury he had suffered. This friend offered him a good deal of money for Eleanor to be his wife. It was a purely business transaction. Eleanor didn’t want to go through with it, but Father convinced her it was her duty.”

“Duty? He appealed to her avarice. Her future husband was a very rich man. That is why she finally agreed,” Addie pointed out. “And not even then without the promise that if her future husband died, she would not be asked to wed again.” 

“Neither here nor there,” Lucy said, shaking her head. 

“She had plans to kill him on their wedding night,” Addie interjected. 

"I knew it!" Petrus cackled. 

“Unfair to accuse her so, not without knowing her true heart,” Lucy defended. 

“Lucy, open your eyes. Eleanor’s true heart is black as pitch, love, and we both know it,” Addie scolded. 

“I very much dislike when you speak ill of her. She’s been through so much,” Lucy sniffled. 

“Mistress, forgive me, but you can’t continue to make excuses for her. Not after what she’s done to you. You cannot go on defending that viper," Petrus said.

"She tried to kill you, Lucy," Addie cried. 

“There’s no need to be melodramatic,” Lucy pouted. 

“Why won’t Nellie take a sea vessel?” Danny wondered, hoping Lucy would go back to her long tale. 

“As I said, we were to sail from London to Port au Prince. Her future husband bought a ship, hired a crew, and everything was settled. Father sent us on our way from London. I went as Nellie’s chaperone, and her protector. Addie and I both. I was already married seven years by that point. The plan was that I would escort Nellie, see her married and settled in, and then I would come home, home to my children. My husband Jack was a Navy officer. He was gone to sea more than he was home. He would pull into London every couple years, stay long enough to make me with child, and then be off again on his foolish adventures. I was nothing more than duty to him. But my children? I loved them most completely. Jack and Edward and Amelia. I can yet see their precious faces, pressed to the bedroom window, waving goodbye.” 

Lucy’s chocolate brown eyes grew distant. Steve held her hand. She sniffed and held her chin higher, tightening her jaw. 

“May I ask? I don't mean to be impolite, but are you half-sisters?” Danny inquired. Addie averted her gaze, pacing back and forth. Petrus cleared his throat. Lucy hemmed, swallowed a syllable or two. 

“I am from Father’s first marriage – Nellie is from his third. When my mother Rosamund died, Father married again. When Martha died, and with no legitimate issue, he married again. Constance, Nellie's mother,” Lucy said. Addie and she exchanged nervous glances. 

“I remember Martha very well. She was most kind to me when Mister William brought me to England,” Addie said mistily. 

“Yes, yes, Martha was a dear, was she not?” Lucy agreed. “Father always said she was his favorite.”

“It’s hard to raise two children on your own,” Steve offered. He gave Danny a meaningful stare, and hoped he understood. Was Steve telling Danny that he was correct, that Addie and Lucy and Nellie were all three sisters?

“Particularly when you’re at sea more than you’re home. When Constance the third wife died too, I took over raising Nellie. Addie and I together. I am two years older than Addie, and nearly ten years older than Nellie. Nellie is more of a daughter than a sister to me. Perhaps that is why I fret over her the way I do.”

“Go on,” Danny urged. 

“Our ship was carried far off course by storms out of Africa. We were limping towards our destination when we were attacked by a fleet of slave ships. We were taken captive, mistreated most grievously. We were thrown into the hold, to be sold with the rest of the human cargo once we reached the West Indies. But before that could happen, Nellie, Addie, and I were turned by a man on that ship,” Lucy explained. 

“The man who captured you?” Danny asked. 

“No. It was one of the other poor unfortunates in the hold. He never told us his Christian name. We called him Old Abraham. He took pity on us. He fed us. He nurtured us. He kept us safe. By night, by stealth, one by one, we four took that entire crew down. We did things to them in recompense for how they had mistreated us. I’m not ashamed to say I came to savor our vengeful forays. We saved the captain for last. I made him beg, as we had begged, and then I killed him. I took his head from his shoulders myself. His life for Nellie’s virtue.”

“I’m very sorry for what you went through,” Danny offered.

“Thank you. That is most kind. But one cannot dwell forever on what happened. One must let go of the pain at some point. One must move forward.” 

“One must move forward,” Addie agreed with Lucy. 

“What happened to Old Abraham?” Danny asked. “Could Nellie have gone to find him?” 

“No. We lost track of him many many years ago. We arrived at Port au Prince, and released our fellow captives by night. Old Abraham preferred isolation to company. He was in search of his own island, where he could live in peace. I do not think Nellie would seek Old Abraham out,” Lucy puzzled, then dismissed the thought. 

“Your sister? She’ll be sixteen forever then?” Danny whispered, shaking his head. “That must be a Hell all its own.”

“She has not dealt well with her anger and pain. My sister can be spiteful and dangerous when the mood takes her. Very petulant and treacherous if you deny her anything she desires. Capricious too.”

“What did you deny her?” Steve asked. 

“Steven, do not press me. I beg you,” Lucy pleaded. 

“Tell me about the ring and the pearls?” Steve asked. 

“The ring was a gift from my Jack. The pearls though, they once belonged to her mother. Nellie’s mother, Constance, she did dote upon me, and I fairly worshipped her because she was so kind and sweet. On her deathbed, Constance did give me the pearls to wear when I would be married. My plan was to give them to Nellie, when she was made a wife. As that never happened, well, Eleanor has taken them with her now out of spite. She is angry with me for denying her what she wanted. She is quite peeved at me, that much is clear.” 

Lucy hesitated, opened her mouth, closed it again, fussed with her rings, and sighed. 

“I would prefer not to say what we fought about, as it is quite personal.” 

“Lucy….”

“Do not press me, Steven. This is a personal matter between sisters, siblings.”

“I need to know her state of mind.” 

“I would not let her do a thing she wished to do.” 

“What sort of thing?” 

“She wished to bring someone home with her. She begged and pleaded. I said no. You know how she can be when she is refused what she wants.” 

“Who did she want to bring home?” 

“I am inches from enthralling the daylights out of you and sending you on your way, young man,” Lucy warned Steve with a sharp bite of words. “Do not press me further.” 

“Very well. Might Eleanor sell these pearls to finance her escape from you?” Steve asked. 

“I would not wish to think so, but yes, it is possible,” Lucy agreed. 

“Would she seek means of transportation other than a sea-going vessel?” Steve asked. 

“Would she be comfortable using modern transportation? Planes? Helicopters?” Danny added for clarification when Lucy looked puzzled. 

“She might at that. Eleanor is an adventurous girl,” Lucy agreed. “I am so very worried about her, Steven.” 

“I can relate. I have a teenage daughter myself. There comes a point when you have to let them leave the nest. If you’ve raised her right, if you’ve shown her the right path, she’s going to be okay. There comes a point when you have to leave them to their own devices," Danny offered. 

“Good advice, surely,” Lucy pursed her lips in vague annoyance at Danny. “It’s not that I haven’t tried to emancipate my sister before. The problem is, when we have left her to her own devices, bad things have happened.” 

“Bad things?” Danny raised a brow. 

“She’s a high-spirited girl,” Lucy defended. Petrus's arched brows said it all. 

“Is she full-on chaotic evil?” Danny asked. 

“Tell me how she came to harm you,” Steve pleaded with Lucy.

“I woke up in the middle of the night to find her standing over me. She had crept into the hotel, and into my room, without tripping any of our defenses. She doused me with petrol, and set me alight,” Lucy whimpered. 

“Yup. Full-on chaotic evil,” Danny decided. 

“You’re quite sure it was Nellie?” 

“Quite sure. She stood close enough to have felt the fire on her own skin.” 

“Why haven’t you healed?” Steve wondered. 

“My body has been trying to heal for weeks. I haven’t enough strength left to do it myself. It’s time. It’s time.”

“Time for what?” Steve asked. 

“I want you to help me end this,” Lucy begged. 

“Find Nellie? Bring her home to you to face justice?” Steve asked. 

“I would prefer no.” 

“Bring her home so you may make friends again?” 

“I very much wish to make friends again with her before I die," Lucy sniffled. 

“Have you spoken to the Gild?” Steve asked. 

“The Gild is loathe to intervene in cases such as this. If I were to drag Nellie home unwillingly, I could find myself in trouble. If she comes home to stay, it must be willingly.”

“No. I meant, have you contacted the Gild to intervene on your behalf and punish Nellie for what she’s done to you.” 

“We did not inform the Gild of what happened,” Petrus admitted.

“Why the hell not?” Steve demanded. 

“Do not snap at Petrus. It was at my insistence. If the Gild knew Nellie had attacked me thus, she might be put to death. I could not bear that,” Lucy sniffled. 

“They must have come to inquire about the incident,” Steve pressed. 

“I told them I had accidently harmed myself.”

“And they believed you?” Steve was astonished. 

“I said I had fallen asleep with a bottle of sherry and a lighted candle too close to the bed.” 

“Lucy, you should have told the Gild the truth.”

“I could not bear it,” Lucy sniffled again. “Nellie is my sister. I could not wish her harm, not for my sake.”

“I understand,” Steve nodded. “Did you really ask me here to help you end your life?” 

Addie and Petrus exchanged a horrified look. Petrus caught Steve’s attention with a solemn frown. It was clear in his face that he did not approve. They both fully expected him to talk Lucy out of this idea. 

“Mistress, there must be another way,” Addie wheedled. 

“The pain is too much to bear any longer, Addie. It drains me. It gnaws at me. It will not let me sleep. I want this to end,” Lucy whimpered miserably. 

“Why ask Steve to do this?” Danny wondered. 

“We are forbidden to take the life of one of our own,” Addie explained. 

"Guess Nellie missed that memo?" Danny joked. Steve nudged him gently to get him to stop. “Even in cases like this, you are forbidden to do anything for her? Where death would be merciful?” Danny gulped. 

Petrus grumbled, “The Gild is quite firmly against mercy killings and suicides both." 

“Have you seen a doctor?” Steve wondered. 

“To what end, dear boy?” Lucy blinked at him. 

“For help?” Steve asked, voice rising.

“No, I have not. You know how I feel about doctors. I had quite enough of their nonsense when I was in childbirth. Some village idiot between my legs, with dirty hands and foul breath, and not even the most basic understanding of the female body. Thank you, no. I am not going to heal, Steven. It’s been weeks. I have delayed too long. If I don't do this soon, I will begin to decay, and fall apart like a leper. Love, can you do this for me?” 

“If it comes to it, yes. I will do this for you. But only if there is no other recourse. But you have not yet exhausted the possibilities, and I will not permit you to do this without first speaking with a proper doctor.” 

"You won't permit me?" Lucy smiled faintly. 

"No," Steve said firmly. 

“You’re quite stubborn,” Lucy mused. 

“Welcome to my world,” Danny laughed fondly, scrunching one set of fingers on Steve’s shoulders as McGarrett dug in a pocket for his cell phone. 

“I might as well indulge you, I suppose,” Lucy murmured. 

“I know someone who can help,” Steve said. 

“Steve, it’s the middle of the night,” Danny sighed. 

"But it's Friday. She's on the night shift," Steve said, phone tucked to his shoulder and chin until the line picked up. "Dr. Fran? Hi! Are you busy?” Steve beamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry so long.....  
> Hope you weren't too bored.


	7. Forewarned and Forearmed

Danny wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep. It was way deeper than a light doze though. How could he have been so stupid? He lurched up, reaching out with both arms, gasping for air as the wisps of an unsettling dream dissipated from his mind’s eye. A single name fell from his lips. 

“Steve?!” 

Where was Steve? He had to find Steve! His partner was in danger! Danny panted frantically as he scrambled to his feet. He whirled left and right, reaching for his weapon. Why was this room so goddamn dark? Why was he lying in a bed? Someone must have carried him here. He didn’t remember walking in here of his own accord. 

“Danno, you good?” a familiar voice asked. 

Steve appeared at the edges of his vision, flipping on the dim light. Danny steadied himself as long arms went around him. Long fingers unhooked his hand from the sidearm, and returned the weapon to its holster. 

“Your tiny terror has a fast hand. He would be very useful on a battlefield.” 

Maybe Danny should have refused the strong alcohol that Addie had offered, but the mellow which had taken over his limbs was very comforting. Or at least it had been until he woke up in a cold shaking fear. 

Steve leaned their foreheads together as he placed Danny’s hand to his chest. It was their personal ritual when Steve would wake in the middle of the night from one of the dreams which shook him to the core. _You’re safe. I’m here. Feel my heart. Hear my voice. Focus on me._

“You’re okay, Danno. It’s 4 a.m. island time. You crashed for a couple hours. I’m getting hungry. How do you feel about breakfast once the sun comes up?”

“Mm hmm, good, yeah,” Danny hummed. “Thanks. Thanks, babe.” 

Danny patted Steve’s chest and focused on the SEAL’s deep voice, his playful tone. It must have been Petrus who was creeping close to them, standing next to this strange bed in this strange room. 

“Why are you making that face?” Steve asked. 

“No reason,” Petrus lied. 

“Thanks for seeing Dr. Fran past the gauntlet out there.” 

“She is not what I expected. Do you trust her?” 

“With my life.” 

“Is she is a nursemaid? A midwife?” 

“She is a healer, heart and soul.”

“In my day and age, cultural norms were very different. My sister Silke faced a church inquest for mending the village idiot’s twisted leg. I cannot imagine what the church elders would have done to your friend. They might well have burned her at the stake.” 

“Dr. Fran would be flattered if you told her so.”

“Silke was anything but flattered.” 

“I imagine not.” 

“If Silke had not been an accomplished witch, she would have died. As it was, she had to live the rest of her life in hiding,” Petrus sulked. 

Danny sat down on the bed he had sprung up from. Shadowy figures moved before the open doorway. He was leaning against Steve’s side. 

“Good thing it's a slow night in the E.R., Dr. Fran?” 

“Steve? Danny?”

“Hey, Doc,” Danny waved grimly, eyes drooping. He struggled to shake himself awake. He could not dismiss the subconscious concern that something was terribly amiss though. Aside from the whole Night of the Living Damned thing. Something about this whole situation reeked. What was that smell? That familiar smell? Dirty and sweet and so enticing. Whose room was he sleeping in? 

Steve patted Danny’s back before striding for the doorway. Danny continued to sit on the edge of the bed, collecting his senses. 

“Thanks for coming,” Steve intoned, giving Dr. Fran a quick hug. She gave him a fond smile. 

“Hon, I was not going to talk you through a blood transfusion over the phone,” Dr. Fran answered. “I am pleasantly surprised it isn’t you lying prostrate for once. You said the situation was urgent. Take me to my patient.” 

“Yes, ma’am. Right this way.” 

Danny was disappointed when Steve walked away. He stared around the small room he was in. Not small, really. It was bigger than his first apartment here in Hawaii. The floor and dresser and a chair in the corner were awash with clothes—petticoats, skirts, blouses, ornate jackets. All the petite, frilly clothes had spilled out of one large portmanteau opened in front of the dresser. There were loose leaves of heavy paper lying about, all around a leather portfolio which had been opened and then loosely closed once more. There was a stack of school books (school books?) on the table beside the bed. He looked twice to confirm what he was seeing. Art History. Painting. Biology. Chemistry. If Danny didn’t know better, he’d guess the room belonged to a teenager. 

Danny lifted the closest piece of heavy sketch paper while mentally cataloging the others which were out of reach. Someone with real talent had been drawing various places around Honolulu and the other islands in charcoal pencil. Studies of tropical flowers, stretches of beach, mountain forests, and strangely enough, highways full of cars. The sketch he held was of a thin strip of land, bordered on both sides by trees, stretching from the brick patio and screened porch where the observer was standing, and ending in the distance at a small spit of beach and ocean. There were two wooden chairs in the middle of a stretch of grass, a single towel folded neatly over the end of one chair. In the distance, beyond the land, there was a figure swimming in the ocean. Danny stared at the toes at the edge of the sketch – tiny and slim, with painted nails, and golden rings decorating the middle toes. 

“This is Lucy, my Mistress.” 

Steve’s words jolted Danny back to reality. Danny left the sketch on the bed, and hurried to find his partner. Silence followed Steve’s confusing introduction. McGarrett cleared his throat and tried again. 

“This is my dear friend, Lucy.”

“Nice to meet you, Lucy,” the unflappable doctor murmured. “My, but you have had a terrible accident, haven’t you?” Dr. Fran tutted, immediately stroking over Lucy’s closest bandaged shoulder.

“Yes,” Lucy agreed tearfully. “It was all a terrible accident. I keep telling them it was an accident. No one will listen.” 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Steve asked. 

“Not unless you’re a blood match for the patient,” Dr. Fran answered. 

“I don’t believe so. I will find one for you though.”

“I brought a few pints of each variety I had on hand, in order to get us started,” Dr. Fran said, patting the silver chill-chest she was carrying. “Fresh would be better though.” 

“I could not agree more,” Petrus intoned.

“Where’s the best place to start to find a match for a transfusion?” Steve asked. 

“A close relative?”

“Will a sibling do?” Steve offered, reaching for Addie’s hand. 

“Half sibling,” Addie reminded him. 

The Mistress was laid out on her bed in the large suite directly opposite the one where Danny had been sleeping. Petrus hung around, nervously watching every step Dr. Fran took which drew her nearer to the Mistress. Addie was giving Dr. Fran a fearful stare, drawing back from her the moment Steve let go of her arm. 

“I don’t bite, dear,” Dr. Fran promised. “I’ll have to run preliminary field tests to see if you two are compatible. Being siblings, even half siblings, does not guarantee you’ll be a match for a transfusion.” 

“Forgive me. I am willing to help however I may do so, but I am exceedingly uncomfortable with doctors,” Addie said as she gave an awkward bow. 

“Don’t worry,” Steve soothed. 

“Has Steven explained our special condition?” Lucy rasped, struggling to sit up against the headboard. 

Petrus swooped in, lifted Lucy upright, fluffed her pillows, and tucked her covers closer, all in a matter of seconds. Dr. Fran watched him, and no doubt took in his strange manner of dress. She watched the ancient crucifix dancing against his massive chest. She gave Steve a strange glance, but carried on. 

“Pronounced porphyria,” Dr. Fran replied. 

Petrus snorted. Steve stood his ground petulantly even when Petrus, Addie, and Lucy all gave him skeptical stares. 

“Not my first experience with this particular pathology. I had a soldier in my care at Johns Hopkins who was convinced he had been transformed into an undead immortal.”

“Truly?” Lucy worked up a nervous laugh, which only made her scarred features that much more ghastly to behold. 

“He had been injured in an IED blast, and was burned over seventy percent of his body. He developed a psychosomatic sensitivity to light and noise as a result. Being thrown through the windshield of his HumVee did him no favors either. He was the only member of his unit not killed by the explosion. He was suffering from survivors’ guilt as well as acute PTSD.” 

Steve caught the tremor in her voice, and studied Dr. Fran meaningfully. Had the young man she was referring to been part of her son Tommy’s unit? 

“Were you able to help him?” McGarrett asked. 

“I healed his physical injuries. Helped him become accustomed to the prosthetic leg and hand. Recommended him to a very nice therapist to help with the scars I couldn’t heal.” 

“Let me get that for you,” Steve offered, lifting and carrying the chill-chest for her. 

“Porphyria?” Petrus tested out the word. “Greek?” 

“Yes. It’s a blood disorder which manifests in a variety of symptoms ranging from sensitivity to light to debilitating mental disorders. The body doesn't produce the necessary components to replenish the red blood cells supply. I must admit, I am not quite clear why Steve remains adamantly convinced a blood transfusion will help you, if the problem was an accidental fire? I would like to bring you back to Queens Medical, and get you to see a burn specialist.” 

“Problematic,” Lucy stammered. 

“I understand. He told me you do not move around during daylight. We can work around that. No worries. We’ll do what we can, and if needed, I’ll set up a personalized visit from a burn specialist. I know people. I can twist an arm or two,” Dr. Fran reassured Lucy, who was not at all comforted by the mental image the words provoked. Addie shuddered, and drew further back. 

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Lucy quivered. 

“I’d like to examine you, get a grasp of the extent of your injuries.”

“I hope you have a strong constitution.” 

“I’m made of titanium, I assure you.”

“Titanium?” Steve giggled. Dr. Fran reached back with one hand and poked him tenderly in the side. 

“That’s enough out of you, Trouble Child. Off you go,” Dr. Fran said, scooting Steve and Petrus towards the door. 

“But I can help,” McGarrett offered. 

“I am not leaving you alone with my Mistress,” Petrus protested. 

“Steven, now. You too, Big Boy. Lucy is going to have to disrobe, and neither of you boys belongs in here while my patient is taking off her clothes. Out. Out. Out,” Dr. Fran ushered them for the door. 

Addie pulled the protesting duo into the outer suite. Danny sat down on the settee where Lucy had first been stretched out. Where was Petrus going? The dark-haired man stalked about in a frenzy, muttering in his Mother Tongue. 

“Don’t worry. You can trust Dr. Fran. She will not hurt the Mistress,” Steve said, keeping Petrus from leaving by touching his arm. Petrus grumbled, shook of Steve’s hand, and made a foul face. 

“You had better hope not,” the large man snarled. Steve gulped and stepped back, letting Petrus leave. 

Addie paced back and forth in front of the closed door to Lucy’s suite.

“The Mistress is in such a fragile state, she may well die from the terror of it all. Neither of us has a good history with doctors,” Addie gulped. 

“This will not involve blood-letting, or leeches, or infusions of sulphur and mercury, or anything of the like.” 

“Good to know” Addie whispered dryly. Her hands were shaking. Danny wondered what horrors were playing out in her head. 

“Petrus and I are going to locate Ulfie, and we’re going to find Nellie, and I’m going to drag her ass back here to help. To apologize, at the very least. Addie, may I depend on you to protect Dr. Fran while I’m gone?” 

“With my own life,” Addie promised. 

“Keep Lord Somerduck away from her. That boy gives me an ill feeling.” 

“Ducky and his compatriots have gone back to their den for the night. Dawn draws near. An hour away at most.”

“Good. Day will be the best time to hunt Eleanor,” Steve decided. 

“Be careful, Scotch.”

“You as well. We’re going to start by reconnoitering the perimeter of this hotel. I for one am very curious to know how Nellie was able to slip past the defenses in the first place,” Steve frowned. 

“That isn’t a mystery. I believe Nellie enthralled Ulfie.”

“Don’t blame this on Ulfie,” Steve defended.

“He was on duty that night, and he is putty in Eleanor’s hands. But then most men are. All Nellie has to do is bat those eyes, display a hint of décolletage, and rational men lose their minds,” Addie complained ruefully. 

“Not every man is vulnerable to a fine pair of breasts and sea blue eyes,” Steve replied. 

“As much as I value your input, Scotch, I have my reservations about bringing you into this mess at all,” Addie confided. 

“I can help,” Steve offered eagerly. 

“You are vulnerable to Nellie because of your connection to her. She fed from you. She can bloody well sense your presence at fifty yards. That alone is going to make creeping up on her difficult at best.” 

“Who said I’m going to creep?” Steve grinned evilly. 

“She knows your scent. She knows your weaknesses. She will not hesitate to exploit your vulnerabilities.”

“I can deal with Nellie,” Steve grumbled. 

“Don't worry, Babe. I got your back,” Danny added, stretching again. Steve reached out to tug his shirt together where it was gapping open. He tickled his fingertips against Danny’s furry belly. Danny kept thinking about the sketches he had seen on the floor in the other room. Where had he seen that place before? 

“Thanks, Danno,” Steve smiled. 

“How long was I been out?” Williams asked. 

“Couple hours,” Steve shrugged. He turned to Addie with a question, but paused. “What? Why the face?” Steve asked Addie. 

“Domesticity becomes you.” 

“There’s no need to be insulting,” Steve grinned. 

“You should not have endangered Daniel by bringing him along.” 

“Nobody is endangering me,” Danny protested.

“The very first thing weakness Nellie will exploit is your affection for each other.”

“Let her try,” Steve frowned. 

“She will wound him to hurt you,” Addie said as she pointed at Danny. 

“I won’t let her within ten paces of Danno,” Steve defended. 

“Goddamn it, Scotch. Listen to me,” Addie swore

“I am,” Steve swore back, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Addie put both hands together in a praying manner, leaning the tips against her mouth for a moment before she spoke again. 

“Steven, you are not a stupid man. Will you please stop and think? Why are we in Hawaii?” 

“You followed Nellie.” 

“Why is Nellie in Hawaii?” 

“The Mistress would not say.” 

“The Mistress didn’t want to frighten you away. But you must have ascertained the truth. You are the reason Nellie is in Hawaii.” 

“How could Nellie possibly know I’m here?” Steve frowned. “Why would she search for me now, after all these years?” 

“Dear boy, you were on the move for the majority of the time since you and she parted company. Off on this adventure and that with your roving pack of marauders.”

“Navy SEALs, not marauders.”

“Being on the move constantly made you difficult to track and follow. But since you left the service, and took up a more stationary place of residence, it was only a matter of time before Nellie would learn where you were.” 

“You’re being paranoid,” Steve sighed. “Why would Nellie come searching for me? You said yourself that she can have any man she wants. Why would she even give me a second thought?” 

“You rejected her. She takes a dim view of being refused. Do you not recall what she did to the son of the Governor of Jamaica?” 

Steve looked frantic for a second or two before his normal bravado kicked in. Danny gulped loudly, not because of any concern for the son of the Jamaican Governor, but because he realized why the sketch he had picked up looked familiar. 

“All that poor lad did was refuse to dance with her at her birthday ball. What do you think she’ll do to you if she gets her hands on you?” 

“Nellie is not entirely invulnerable herself. She knows my weaknesses, yes, but I know hers too. Now quit worrying, please. Do you have any more of that scotch?” 

“I might have another bottle. I could use another stiff drink myself!”

“Not what I had in mind,” Steve hedged. 

“You’re such a stubborn arse, Steven,” Addie grumbled. 

She whisked quickly towards the liquor cabinet, and rummaged around in the lower depths. There were loud clanks and rattles, glass colliding with glass. She pulled out bottle after bottle, lining them up on the floor. Something in the back caught her eye. The upper half of her body vanished into the cabinet. 

“Oh bother. Why does Lucy insist on keeping these here? Why can’t she leave them in the wardrobe like normal people would? Hold these, would you?” 

Addie extracted a long leather belt by the silver buckle. A pristine set of hand muskets appeared, and Steve caught his breath in delight. He licked his lips, and snatched the prize to study it more closely. He hugged the belt to his chest, and caressed the carved handles of the antique weapons. The small muskets were shaped like dolphins. Steve’s fingers worked over every inch, every delicate swirl. He fingered the barrels in a way that made Danny’s cock twitch with jealousy. 

“Are these Queen Anne pistols?” Steve breathed excitedly.

“The Mistress’s own weapons, used when she would accompany me on forays in our distant youth,” Addie remarked, digging around again in the liquor cabinet. 

“You and Lucy were pirates?” Danny gasped. 

“We weren’t pirates. We spent several decades chasing slaving vessels, steering the ships back to their origins, and freeing the captives.”

“I thought Nellie didn’t like sailing ships.” 

“Nellie did not accompany the Mistress and I on our adventures. We purchased a beautiful home for Eleanor, set her up with every pleasant distraction a young girl could want, hired a veritable army of handsome young men to protect her during our absences, and spoiled her within an inch of her life. We pampered that girl like she was a princess.”

“Do you ever wonder if you overindulged her?” Danny squinted. 

“Often,” Addie admitted. 

By the time Addie had found what she was seeking and had turned around, Steve had the wide belt buckled around his hips. He adjusted it with an alluring wiggle. Addie held up the bottle, a gleam of triumph in her eyes. Then she stared Steve up and down, and gave Danny the bottle. 

“It’s meant to be worn more loosely, Scotch.” 

Steve lifted his arms and offered his lower half to Addie. She tugged the buckle open, adjusted the belt at an angle, and buckled it again. 

“It needs to move with you, not restrict your ability to twist and turn in the heat of battle. The set includes a rapier, if you’re interested.” 

“Yes, please,” Steve grinned. “Do you have any flasks?” 

“Surely, yes. I won’t be but a moment, “Addie replied. She vanished into an adjoining room, rummaging around some more. Danny stared at Steve, whose sheepish smile stretched out widely to both sides of his jaw. 

“If you ever again tease Max about his cosplay weekends, I’m going to out you,” Danny warned Steve. McGarrett ducked his head with a nod of acknowledgement, scratching at the nape of his neck. 

“Have you need of a good cloak?” Addie called out.

“No, love, but thanks,” Steve called back. She returned with a rapier which brought a truly-embarrassing meep of delight out of Steve. 

Once well-equipped, they found Petrus in the common area. The vast space was deserted now, except for one or two denizens of the night who were loitering about. Petrus was pacing around in the middle, pulling on a shirt, and pushing one long leg into a black leather boot. 

“What kept you, brother? I was concerned for you,” Petrus asked. A blond man stood close at hand, holding Petrus’s other boot. He and Petrus appeared to be nearly the same age, but of opposite temperaments. 

“I became engaged in a delightful conversation with the most charming native woman.”

“I might have known,” Petrus sighed. 

“Poor dear looked a bit worse for wear. Bruised and battered, she was! She was curious to know if I had seen anything suspicious in the alley behind the Norwegian consulate.” 

“What did you tell her?” 

“As you well know, sir, I saw many suspicious things in the alley behind the Norwegian consulate.”

“Did you tell her everything you saw?” 

“Of course not. But we did talk, for many hours. She insisted on conveying me to a large building downtown. She laid my fingertips on a machine which copied their features. She also made several attempts to memorialize my face, though that machine malfunctioned and would not copy my face. She was disappointed to have to give up that endeavor. We continued our conversation in another room. I wondered if she were lonely, being that eager to talk to me. She was very insistent that I should not leave, though I did mention I had a friend who was surely waiting for me.”

“Quite lonely, no doubt, to have listened to you ramble on,” Petrus agreed. 

“Petite woman? Dark hair? Brown eyes?” Danny wondered. 

“Black eye? Stitches in her bottom lip?” Steve asked. 

“Exactly that! You’ve met her?” 

“Yup,” Danny nodded. 

“She’s part of our team. Officer Kono Kalakaua,” Steve said. 

“She did say she was an officer of the local constabulary! I was astonished. I confess I did not believe her,” the blond exclaimed. “Hello, Scotch. You look well. Nice pistolés. And you brought a friend? How nice! Did he agree to find Miss Eleanor?” Ulfie asked Petrus. 

“Ulfie Yorgeson, Daniel Williams,” Steve interjected, shrewd eyes burrowing into Petrus. 

“Did you tell him about Miss Eleanor and her portfolio?” 

“I have not had a chance to explain, Ulfie,” Petrus said, ducking the piercing stare from Steve. 

“Friend?” Ulfie offered a bow, while Petrus snatched his other boot and pulled it on. Where Petrus exuded darkness and mayhem and danger, the air of a dangerous felon, Ulfie could only be described as cheerful and undeniably pleasant. Adorable, even. Other adjectives kept coming to mind as Danny shook Ulfie’s ice-cold hand.

“Brother,” Danny intoned. Ulfie bypassed Steve’s extended hand, and gave him a big hug. 

“Steven, you’ve grown,” Ulfie noted. “Put on a few pounds too,” he approved. “You were so thin before. The weight looks good on you.” 

Steve stared self-consciously at his stomach as Ulfie patted his belly affectionately. 

“Ulfie, you didn’t enthrall Kono to get away, did you?” Danny said. 

“Not at all! I would never have harmed her. She was so nice! She wanted to know all about me! Where I was from? What I was doing in Hawaii? How I came to be in the alley behind the consulate? It’s not very often you meet a stranger who is so concerned about your well-being.” 

“What did you tell her?” Petrus pressed. 

“I wasn’t sure she needed to hear the entire sordid tale of how I came to be here, so I kept my explanation brief. I told her I was visiting the islands with a group of friends. Complimented her on what a lovely place it was. Told her I was out for a walk in the night because I couldn’t sleep.”

“Was she not curious why you were carrying my clothes?” Petrus asked. 

“I had hidden your things in the alley, but I came back for them later. Miss Kalakaua did ask if I might have known who the deceased man was. I told her I had not noticed a deceased man. That made her exceedingly suspicious, I'm afraid.” 

Petrus raised a brow. “You shouldn’t lie to strange women, Ulfie.” 

“I had no idea she was referring to you. I was walking the perimeter, just as you had instructed me. You were not deceased when we parted ways. That had only been an hour prior. I couldn’t imagine something untoward had happened to you in the interim,” Ulfie defended. 

“If you desperately needed to contact Steve, why go through all these machinations? Why not come to his house? Come to the office? Call him on the phone?” Danny asked Petrus. 

“The answers to your questions should be perfectly obvious, Detective. Your employment hours are primarily during the daylight, and thus I could not come to your office. Your leisure hours are quite irregular, thus it was highly unlikely I would know when I could find Scotch at home. It took me weeks to even convince the Mistress that she should call on Steven to ask for his assistance.”

“She didn’t trust me?” Steve worried. 

“She was concerned about you seeing her in a vulnerable state. The entire situation has broken her heart. She cannot admit what happened, even though it's plain as day," Petrus promised. “As for the telephone, our hearing is quite sensitive. Those devices hurt. We tend to avoid them.” 

“So your big plan was to play dead at a crime scene?” Danny asked. 

“It was elementary. I needed to put myself where our paths would cross. Steven is most often at work,” Petrus defended. 

“Ulfie, how did you manage to get out of the interrogation room?” Steve asked. 

“She left for a few moments, a call of nature I believe. I misted out of the room through the drain. Dreadful journey. You might consider irrigating that drain once in a great while, yes?” Ulfie suggested. 

“Misted out?” Danny asked. 

“It takes many years to perfect the skill, so I’m told,” Steve murmured. 

“I see you borrowed a couple trinkets from the Mistress,” Petrus said, indicating the wide belt on Steve’s hips. McGarrett looked terribly pleased with himself. 

“Why am I holding a bottle of 1784 scotch?” Danny asked. 

“Pour it into the flasks, as much as they’ll hold,” Steve ordered as Petrus shook his head in annoyance. 

“You need a cloak,” Ulfie suggested. “Perhaps some nice boots?” 

“Don’t encourage him,” Petrus rumbled. “He already thinks he’s Blackbeard’s bastard son, twice removed.” 

“Should you be indulging in strong drink while we’re looking for Eleanor?” Ulfie asked as Danny filled the flasks. 

“It’s not for drinking,” Steve replied. 

“What’s your plan for finding the Chaotic Evil Sister?” Danny asked, giving Steve one of the full flasks. Petrus snatched it away, tucking it into a pouch on the belt. 

"Open a vein and stand in prevailing winds," Steve chuckled. 

"Do not make light of this," Petrus warned, finger in Steve's face. 

“I’m not surprised the Mistress asked you to help,” Ulfie said amiably. “You’re one of very few prospective acolytes who have lived to tell the tale of being turned, or almost turned, by the Mistress’s kid sister. She hasn’t learned a tender touch yet.” 

“I don’t suppose either of you has a source of flame?” Steve asked, eyes glittering.

Ulfie and Petrus exchanged a frightened glance. 

“There’s still half a bottle left,” Danny interjected, swirling the contents around while tucking his own flask into his pocket. Petrus plucked the bottle from Danny’s hands, and hid it away in the voluminous folds of his heavy black cloak. 

“The Mistress does not approve of taking eye for an eye, if that is your plan,” Petrus rumbled. 

“Not my plan. Just need a little extra insurance,” Steve assured him. “Can you take me to the rental house where you first found Eleanor?”


	8. The Rental House

“Now this,” Danny chuckled, lifting both arms and motioning around the vine-choked pathway. “This IS precisely what I would have pictured.” 

Steve’s raised brow was visible in the growing dawn. They were picking their way along the broken bricks, crawling over and under overgrown branches and vines.

“We need to hurry,” Petrus grumbled, scurrying inside the dilapidated mansion at the end of the long driveway. 

“Is he always like this?” Danny asked Steve. 

“Like what?”

“Like he’s got a broomstick wedged up his ass?” 

“It takes a while for him to warm to you, that’s all,” Ulfie promised, stepping through the open front door, cloak swirling behind him. Steve and Danny followed into the shadowy interior. Broken furniture was everywhere. Broken bottles and beer cans. Smashed dishes. Parts of a dismembered doll were hanging like a macabre wind chime. It was only the usual crime scene detritus that Danny and Steve were accustomed to swimming through. Petrus climbed a rickety staircase, and moved down a wide hall. 

“Do behave, Sir Daniel,” Steve chided Danny before leaping like a cat up the stairs.

Petrus pushed in a bedroom door in, dagger at the ready. The scent that wafted out brought a hint of a smile to Danny’s face. 

“Familiar incense,” Williams chuckled. Steve’s nose curled. 

“How often does Nellie indulge in recreational drug use?” Danny asked Petrus. 

Steve sniffed the air, and gave the door a stiffer push. Piles of paper were blocking the way. Steve swooped down and gathered a partial stack. They were drawings, charcoal etchings, sketches, and such. Torn from a larger pad and tossed around aimlessly, willfully. He stacked them together, paying them no mind because he was busy dodging curious glances from Danny. 

Petrus took the sketches quickly away from Steve, threw them into a nearby fireplace like so much kindling. The four men were finally able to enter the room. 

It was a den of disaster which closely matched the room at the hotel where Danny had found himself asleep. There were charcoal sketches thrown all over. Clothing ranging from formal dresses and gowns to jeans and spaghetti-strap tops were hung haphazardly in the wide-open closet. Many more clothes were thrown over every possible piece of furniture and piled on the floor. There were glasses and goblets stacked like vases along a ruined desk also littered with more sketches. Rings of a thick, red substance covered some of the pages. 

“Miss Eleanor is not the most tidy housekeeper,” Ulfie joked gently. 

“What are recreational drugs?” Petrus asked. 

“You can’t smell that?” Danny laughed.

“The strong incense. Yes.” 

"What is that smell?" Steve wondered. 

“It’s weed, man,” Danny teased.

“No. Besides the pakalolo. Underneath the marijuana?” 

“What?” 

“Has Nellie got a body stashed in here?” Steve whirled to ask Petrus. 

“Heavens, no,” Ulfie protested. 

“I'm telling you, there is something dead in here,” Steve nodded. 

“Hard to tell with all of this crap lying around,” Danny frowned. 

“You’re one to talk,” Steve teased gently. He nosed around, pulling his rapier free of the sheath and delicately lifting this piece of clothing or that stray sketch as he moved about. 

“Should we tidy up for her?” Ulfie wondered. 

“No,” Petrus muttered. 

"No," Steve insisted. "Don't touch anything until we've had time to catalogue it all." 

McGarrett dropped down on all fours to peer under the four-poster bed with elaborately-ripped curtains. When he still could not see all the way under, he landed one shoulder on the floor and slid the rapier where he could not see. 

Danny and Petrus both stood back to admire the view, and, catching each other in the act of doing so, exchanged a tiny growl apiece. Petrus moved away towards the window, pulling the curtains together to prevent more light from coming in. Danny watched him gather the bed curtains on the far side of the bed. He pulled them open with a yank. The large man immediately closed the curtains once more. 

“Scotch?” 

“Yes, what?” McGarrett popped back up. Steve was on his feet and around the bed in a shot. Danny followed. Petrus pointed into the bed itself. 

“I do not believe it has yet expired, though the smell does argue ‘tis a close thing,” Petrus said, backing away from the bed as the young man he had discovered stirred sleepily to life. 

“Oh, hey. Hi. Are you the brother?” the youngster asked, stretching and shifting his limbs around. “When is Nellie coming back?” 

Steve and Danny stared at the young man. Then they stared at Petrus, who was certainly as surprised as they were. 

“He wasn’t here last time, I assure you,” Petrus murmured. 

“Is he the one Nellie wanted to bring home to Lucy?” Steve asked. 

“Nope,” Ulfie fretted. 

“What’s your name?” Danny asked as they all scanned the young man over for injuries. There were no gaping wounds, no bite marks save for a hickey or two, no broken bones, or grievous marks whatsoever. His worst malady seemed to be his drug-daze. 

“Name's Marcus.” 

“How long have you been here?” Steve asked. 

“Nellie said I could crash at her place for a while.”

“How long ago was that?” Steve pressed. 

“Couple days? Maybe longer.”

“Marcus? Are you unharmed?” Danny asked. 

“I haven't slept this well in years. This bed is so comfortable,” the young man smiled sleepily.

“Look at his eyes. Nellie must have enthralled him to keep him here against his will,” Danny decided. 

“What have you been eating?” Steve wondered. 

“Take-out, man. Nellie is the best. She sends anything I want. Pizza. Wings. The best pit beef. This hotel? It’s the best,” he smiled dizzily. “Like anything I can think of, she can bring me.” 

Steve and Danny were staring at Petrus again, waiting for an explanation. 

“It is somewhat like a hotel, I suppose," Ulfie decided. 

“How could you not notice a perpetually-stoned surfer boy wandering around Nellie’s house?” Danny wondered. 

“The young man was not present when we were last here,” Petrus insisted again. 

“Marcus, we need to talk,” Steve said, tapping the kid on the shoulder and motioning for him to stand up. 

“Dude,” Marcus grinned, wobbling to his feet. “Are you the cops?” 

“Yes. Stand up,” Steve ordered. 

“Should we bring in CSI, and have a team comb the place for clues?” Danny asked with a wry smirk. 

“CSI! Oh! I’ve seen that show!” Ulfie exclaimed happily. “I love TV! I am quite addicted!” 

“We could call in a team,” Steve offered to Petrus. 

“I would prefer you didn't, for reasons which should be profoundly obvious.” 

“What if I show you what to do?” Steve asked Ulfie, who brightened again. 

“I would gladly lend any aid you might require, if it will bring Miss Eleanor home again. The Mistress is so very worried about her being out here alone.” 

“All right then,” Steve agreed, in spite of Danny’s WTF expression.


	9. The Rental House Guest

“He is enjoying this, isn’t he?” Danny murmured. He was gazing through the doors back into the bedroom, where Ulfie and Petrus were making great headway into the disaster area that was Nellie’s living space. 

“It may not seem so at first blush, but Ulfie has a good head on his shoulders,” Steve commented. 

“You can see all the way to Molokai from here,” Marcus beamed, watching the sun come up over the waters. 

“Mmm hmm,” Steve agreed as he peered keenly at the youngster. Danny knew what McGarrett was doing, keeping the surfer boy out on the rickety balcony, chatting him up casually while waiting for the dawn to break. If Nellie had done anything untoward to the young man, he would not be able to stand the light of day. But if the dawn broke, and Marcus kept on talking and smiling and acting normally, Steve would be satisfied that Marcus was safe. 

“Will Nellie be back soon?” Marcus pined, putting his back against the wall of the awful house and moving side to side. He was scratching an itch slowly and languorously. 

“We’re hoping you might be able to help us with that,” Steve pressed closer. “Can you tell us how you two met?” 

“I was swimming one night in my favorite spot, drifting around by the light of the moon. It’s the best time.” 

“Yeah,” Steve nodded. 

“I was coming back to the beach to rest up a few minutes, and there she was, crying in the dark. I asked her what was wrong, gave her a shoulder to lean on. Shared my stash with her. That calmed her down some. We talked until dawn. She asked me back to her place. I’ve been here ever since.” 

“How long ago?” 

“A few days?” Marcus shrugged. He wasn’t sure.

“What about your family? Your friends?” Danny worried. 

“I called my mom, told her I was crashing with a friend,” Marcus shrugged. “She said okay. No worries.” 

“Okay. Marcus, we’re going to take you to the hospital, have them check you over, and um, well, you’re an adult. I can take you home to your mom, or you can come back here,” Steve murmured. 

Danny sputtered in protest, “Steve! Coming back here is not an option.” 

“Why not?” Marcus whined. 

“Steve, they’re….!” Danny motioned into the room, and made a flapping bat motion with both hands. Steve grinned, biting back a laugh. How in the world could he find any part of this humorous? 

“They don’t really do that.” 

“What?” 

Steve imitated Danny’s bat motions, and smiled slightly. “Purely myth. They don't transform into bats.” 

“Great. I’ll keep that in mind. Not our immediate problem though.” 

“Marcus, did Eleanor tell you about herself?” Steve asked, amusement making his eyes crinkle.

“Dude, you get her wound up, and she does nothing but talk. Am I right?”

“She does indeed have a tendency to monologue,” Steve agreed. “But she told you all about herself? Who she is? Where she’s from?” 

“Oh, yeah. I know everything,” Marcus nodded. He made the same hand-flapping bat motion that Danny had started. 

“Wait. Wait. Wait. Steven, are you actually checking to see if Little Miss Fangalicious had informed consent before she kidnapped Marcus, and held him captive in her house in a drug-induced state?” Danny exclaimed. 

“Marcus?” Steve asked. “Are you being held against your will?” 

“You can’t be serious. She enthralled him. He isn’t here of his own accord,” Danny persisted. 

“Marcus, are you being held here against your will?” 

“What do you mean?” Marcus asked. 

“Did Eleanor force you to stay here?” Steve asked. 

“No, dude, not at all,” Marcus insisted. 

Danny’s mouth was hanging open. He smacked Steve in the shoulder. 

“He is under the influence. He cannot give consent,” Danny growled.

“Free room and board in a swank house with a beach view, and all the pakalolo I can smoke? Um, no, dude, I’m not here against my will,” Marcus snorted softly. “But thanks for being worried,” he added, giving Danny’s shoulder a small fist bump.

Steve gave Danny a shrug, and Danny blinked, his mouth turning into a straight line of disbelief.

“I think the fumes are clouding your judgement,” Danny told Steve pointedly. 

“Is Nellie coming back soon?” Marcus pined. 

“Soon, I hope,” Steve soothed. 

“You could help us with that,” Danny insisted. 

“How?” Marcus asked. 

“Do you remember why she was upset, the night you met her on the beach by the water?” Danny said. 

“Nellie said her sister is smothering her. Like, she couldn’t breathe. She felt like she was being held prisoner. She left London because she needed to find her own space. Needed to get away from herself. I told her about a friend of mine who could take her anywhere she wanted to go.” 

“A friend of yours?” Steve grabbed onto the words. 

“A friend of a friend.” 

“Does this someone have a name?” 

“Nah, man. You’re 5-0. I’m not gonna squeal on a friend that way,” Marcus refused.

“Who’s to say we’re even interested in your buddy??” Steve persuaded. “He’s performing a service, right? He helps people who wanna get away?”

“Sort of,” Marcus hedged. 

“Do you want to help Nellie?” Steve pressed, stepping ever-so-slightly closer to the young man, using his physical presence to intimidate. 

“Sure, but…” 

“Eleanor has been missing for weeks,” Danny interjected. 

“Don’t you want to help us find her, Marcus?” Steve whispered. 

“Yeah, but she wanted to be gone, man, so I don’t see where her being missing is a problem for her.” 

“You want to see her, right?” Steve asked.

“More than anything.” 

“Tell us about this friend, and we’ll find Nellie, and you can see her again,” Danny explained. 

“No way. I wanna see Nellie, but I’m not going to rat out my friend.” 

“Marcus, you’re here, and Nellie is out there. If you want to see her again, I think you have two choices. Wait for her to come home, or go to where she might be. Do you think she’s ever coming home?” Steve asked. 

“Not if she can help it,” Marcus snorted. “She knows her sister knows she’s here, and she’s avoiding her sister like the plague.”

“Then if you want to see Nellie, you need to help us find her, don’t you?” Steve explained. 

“Maybe.” 

“Where do you think Nellie might be?” Danny interjected again.

“We talked about Japan, but she said she didn’t like the food there.” 

“What kind of food does she like?” Danny asked slowly.

“She has a certain type,” Marcus murmured, looking intently at Steve, then back at Danny. 

“I bet she does,” Danny agreed grimly. 

“Did she mention any place in particular?” Steve clutched hopefully. 

“She talked going some place so remote it made Kansas look overpopulated,” Marcus laughed. 

“Has she been to Kansas?” Danny asked. 

“ …the fuck should I know?” Steve whispered under his breath, grimacing at Danny. 

“I thought you had a supernatural connection to her,” Danny smirked. 

“I can tell you if she’s in the room with me. It’s not like I have super-spidey-senses which will lead me to her doorstep.” 

“I don’t think she’s in Kansas,” Marcus interjected. “She said she had to meet up with her brother here before she could leave.” 

“Her brother?” Steve puzzled. 

“Do the ladies have a brother?” 

“Not that I’m aware of,” Steve shrugged. 

“Is that all you need from me?” Marcus asked. 

“Yes. Thanks. You’ve been a big help,” Steve lied through his teeth. 

“But I didn’t tell you anything.” 

“No, but you were helpful nonetheless. We’re going to take you to the hospital, then, you know, you’re free to go. All right?” Steve suggested. 

“Sure, dude.”

“Call your mom. Tell her you’re okay.” 

“All right,” Marcus said, pulling a cell phone out of his shorts pocket. 

“Can I have your cell phone number in case we need more help?” Steve asked. 

“Sure, dude.” 

“Does Nellie have a cell number?” Steve ventured.

“Yeah, of course. I talk to her almost every day.”

“Have you talked to her today?”

Marcus shook his head no. “Yesterday.” 

“How did she sound?” Danny wondered. 

“Happy.”

"Happy?" Steve confirmed. 

"Super stoked," Marcus insisted. 

“You sure it was yesterday?” Danny wondered. 

“Not entirely,” Marcus admitted. Steve narrowed his eyes and heaved up an impatiently, fatherly sigh. The ripple between his brows said he wanted to seize Marcus by the shoulders and shake the ever-loving crap out of him. It was a testament to how far Danny had brought Steve into the etiquette of the civilized world that McGarrett had not smacked Marcus upside his head and hung him by his ankles over the balcony. Danny was quite proud of himself. 

“Looks like they’re wrapping up in there,” Danny motioned to the bedroom. Steve nodded, tapping numbers into his phone before tucking it discretely back into one of his many pants pockets. 

They had delayed long enough. The balcony was bathed in full morning sun by this point, and Marcus had not burst into flames, or hissed and dashed for the retreating shadows. The surfer boy yawned, and stretched, and scratched the side of his butt. 

“I hope Nellie comes home soon,” he remarked. 

“Mmm hmm,” Steve agreed. 

“Doubt it,” Danny added. 

“I really miss her,” Marcus sighed. 

Steve patted the surfer boy’s shoulder, and returned inside the room. Danny stopped McGarrett on the threshold between darkness and light. 

“Steve, how is Nellie keeping Marcus here if she didn’t enthrall him?” 

“She was nice to him?” Steve offered. Danny glared back. “I don’t know,” Steve defended.

“Is she feeding from him?” 

“She might be.” 

“How is she feeding from him but not turning him into one of them?” 

“If she cuts him and drinks free-flowing blood, she won’t turn him. She has to latch on with her teeth, suck with her mouth, to infect him with the virus."

"It's a virus?" 

"In a sense, yes, isn't it? Roll with it. It's a theory, Danny."

"Okay. We'll roll with your theory. Nellie can't infect Marcus unless she bites him and drinks his blood. Why has she not turned him?" 

"Nellie isn’t strong enough to turn anyone bigger than a child,” Steve reminded Danny.

“Those hickeys didn’t break the skin,” Danny said, peering back at Marcus.

“No visible feeding marks,” Steve agreed. Danny stared at Marcus’s shorts, and back at Steve. “Ask him to take off his swim trunks, if you’re that curious to find out where Nellie has been feeding from.”

“No thanks,” Danny shivered squeamishly. 

“Scotch? You need to see this,” Petrus called, rippling through the heavy curtains for a second. 

“Right away,” Steve replied, stepping in and pulling the curtains closed. He and Danny had to wait for their eyes to adjust. 

“What do you mean to do with him?” Ulfie asked, pointing back outside. 

“We’ll take Marcus to the hospital, make sure he’s all right, and then send him on his way,” Steve replied. “What is it?” he asked Petrus. 

The big man turned away from the sketches Ulfie had gathered onto the bed. Petrus thrust a teeshirt into Steve’s grip. It was blue, and wrinkled, and so much larger than the rest of the clothes in the room. Steve held up the shirt by the shoulders, and his eyes got bigger. He rumpled up the shirt and thrust it back at Petrus when Danny came over to stare at it. 

“Marcus?” Steve suggested. 

Petrus turned Steve around by the shoulders, and held the shirt up to his back to test the size. It would have been a perfect fit. Petrus hoped Danny would confirm his suspicions. He was not left disappointed. 

“Steve! That's your shirt! You left this shirt hanging on your chair on Monday,” Danny said. 

“It’s a very common brand of teeshirt,” Steve protested. 

“Fucking hell, Steve! How goddamn close has this little bitch been to you, and you haven’t seen or heard or sensed her?” Danny exclaimed. 

“Rather close indeed,” Ulfie sighed. He picked up one of the sketches and gave it to Danny. Williams shuddered and let it drop to the ground. Steve twisted around and tilted his head to stare at the sketch. 

“Tis a fair likeness,” McGarrett offered, bending down. It was a drawing of Steve and Danny sleeping in the yellow bedroom. Steve was on his back, one arm cocked above his head, one arm hanging off the bed, his mouth wide open. Danny was sleeping on top of Steve, head pillowed on his chest, curled up tight into the hollow of his body. 

“She’s been in our house, Steve. In our house! She’s been within ten feet of us!” Danny bellowed. 

“Impossible,” Steve protested. “I haven’t sensed Nellie anywhere close. I would have known she was there, particularly if she had been this close.” 

“I believe I know why she is keeping the young man around,” Ulfie offered as Danny raced over to the bed and flipping through the sketches that Ulfie had gathered. 

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. OH FUCK!” Danny muttered. 

“I’ve seen this ploy before. She is using the lad as a scent decoy,” Petrus agreed, following Ulfie to the many goblets which were lying on the ruined desk. 

“She’s using his blood to make a potion which will mask her from those who know her scent,” Ulfie continued. “She would need a native to find the right solution. Someone you wouldn’t find out of the ordinary.”

“Steve! She knows about Grace. She knows about Charlie. She’s stalking the both of us!” Danny called out, showing him sketch after sketch. 

“Calm down, Danny,” Steve replied. “Look on the bright side.” 

“BRIGHT SIDE?!” Danny and Petrus exclaimed as one voice of concern. 

“If Miss Eleanor is stalking Scotch, she will be much easier to find,” Ulfie surmised. 

“Yeah….am I right?” Steve nodded, grinning as he lifted Ulfie’s hand and bumped knuckles with him. "Why look a gift horse in the mouth, Danny? We don't have to bust our asses searching the whole fucking island if Nellie is following in my wake." 

“Steve, no,” Danny scolded. "This is not good." 

“Let’s get some breakfast, and keep an eye out for her. She’ll show herself soon enough,” Steve decided.

"How exactly do you plan to draw her out?" Petrus wondered, crossing his arms over his chest. Steve pulled out his phone and started dialing as a tiny smirk twitched on his mouth. 

Danny covered Steve's mouth with one hand. 

"Are you fucking serious!?" Danny blurted.


	10. Over Easy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wee bit of sword-swallowing and rough frottage ahead

“I’m glad you’re having such a great time in New York, Monkey,” Danny beamed. The pleasure in his face wasn’t feigned in the slightest. He had barely gotten two words in edgewise with Grace. Her excitement was evident. Although she hadn’t wanted to go with Rachel at first, she had warmed to the idea eventually. 

Steve flew back and forth in front of the stove, flipping eggs and bacon with practiced skill, stirring up a few pancakes as well. He had a long apron pulled around his body, though to be truthful, the angled top piece only covered a fraction of his massive chest. When he wasn’t watching Danny sitting on the counter, talking to Grace, gauging their conversation by Danny’s changing facial expressions, Steve would cast an eye sideways. 

“You’ll make someone a fine wife someday, Scotch,” Petrus tormented. 

Petrus and Ulfie were leaning against the kitchen wall. Steve had pulled all the shades to keep out the bright sunlight. Petrus had his arms crossed over his chest, and watched Steve dubiously. Ulfie yawned broadly, and sniffed the air. 

“I remember that smell? A rasher of bacon, isn’t it?” 

“Mm hmm,” Petrus hummed. 

“It remains somewhat tantalizing,” Ulfie shrugged. “Though I confess, not nearly as much as their blood. I find myself most distracted.” 

“Mmm…” Petrus hummed again, his smile twitching sideways. Danny continued speaking, though he was giving the two strangers a narrow-eyed glance. 

“I shouldn’t be hungry at all. I stopped for a bite in Chinatown on the way back to the hotel. She was a very fine vintage. I don’t know what’s come over me here,” Ulfie continued to Petrus. 

“Uncle Steve and I are having friends over for breakfast, and then we’re headed out to work on a case,” Danny said to Grace. “We need to drop in on someone. She wasn’t answering her phone though.” 

Steve piled the finished food on several plates, turning to open the fridge door. He took off his apron, and leaned down to stare inside the fridge. Petrus rasped and tilted his head. Ulfie snorted, tucked his head against Petrus’s shoulder, and whispered something under his breath to the taller man. Petrus’s smile grew wider. 

“I gotta go, Monkey. You and Charlie be good for your mom. Danno loves you both very much. You know that, right? Love you more. Yes, I’ll tell Uncle Steve you love him too.” 

“I thought we had some syrup in here somewhere,” Steve was saying, hips swaying back and forth as he pushed items in the fridge around. He squatted down on beefy haunches, and Petrus whispered something else to Ulfie which made him snort and laugh. Danny leapt down off the counter, smacking Steve’s backside. 

“I need a word with you,” Danny growled, not waiting for an affirmative response before he was dragging Steve into the laundry hallway and pantry room nearby. 

“Help yourselves. Have some food. Back in a second,” Steve called, letting Danny pull him along. “What is your problem?” he whispered when Danny marched him into the pantry and slammed the door loudly. 

“You. You’re my problem. You have to stop,” Danny whispered.

“Stop what?” Steve defended innocently. 

“Stop pretending this is absolutely normal.” 

“What’s not normal? I’m cooking breakfast on Saturday. I always cook a big breakfast on Saturday.” 

“Steven, there are two strange men standing in our kitchen, both of whom want to suck the blood from our veins, one of whom is staring you up and down like he wants to bend you over a high-back chair, and fuck you within an inch of your life as well.” 

Steve grinned slyly, nestling against Danny in order to nibble on his neck. 

“You’ll have to forgive Petrus.” 

“Must I?” 

“There is a bit of unresolved tension between us.” 

“You think, Sherlock?” 

“He made it clear during our previous acquaintance that he very much fancied me, and wouldn’t be at all unhappy to fill in where the Mistress had refused to do so,” Steve nibbled between words. 

“Will you stop talking like that? You sound ridiculous. Have you slept with every goddamn vampire you’ve met?” 

Steve pouted as he replied, “We don't use that word." 

"Well I do!" Danny shouted. 

"I haven't slept with a single one of them, actually. I didn’t sleep with the Mistress, because she did not want to. I did not sleep with Addie, because she was not interested. I did not sleep with Petrus, because I wasn’t as open then about myself as I am now. And for your information, I didn’t sleep with Ulfie either. So no, I did not sleep with every goddamn one of them.” 

“I don’t like the way he looks at you,” Danny hissed. 

“Danno, are you jelly?” Steve whispered in a little boy voice now. 

“No, Steve. That’s not the point.” 

“Love it when you’re jelly,” Steve crooned. 

“Steve, you are not going to use sex to make me forget that I’m mad at you. No. No, you’re not. I’m not falling for it. Jesus freaking…..Steve? We can’t….do this…. Not here….” 

Steve was undoing Danny’s buttons, and lifting up his shirt tails. 

“Do what?” Steve continued in the little boy voice. 

“You are not…...stop it, Steve….” Danny scolded before giving into a small laugh and groan. Danny wanted to stop Steve’s roaming hands, at least until they slipped beneath his undershirt. Broad thumbs rode over his nipples just as there was hot breath teasing his belly button, followed by a hint of tongue. Danny groaned loudly, head falling back to bang on the pantry shelf behind his head. 

Danny’s fingers clenched through Steve’s short hair as his partner slid down on his knees, working Danny’s belt apart. Cool air hit Danny’s searing hot skin, and he gasped as Steve’s beak caressed his abdomen. 

“Nothing to be jealous about,” Steve promised huskily, fingertips sliding into Danny’s boxers, tugging his waistband low in front. 

“Steve…” Danny whined. 

“I belong to you, Danno. Only you,” Steve promised, tongue tracing whorls through tiny curls of hair. “Mmm…..” he hummed deeply as he drew the crown of Danny’s cock between his lips. 

“Steve…” Danny whined again, but for an entirely different reason. He bumped his head on the shelf once more, gasping for air. He clenched his eyes shut, and bit his mouth in a vain attempt to keep somewhat quiet. He lost that battle right away though, moaned out hoarsely when Steve took him deep, stroking and sucking. Those hands. That mouth. McGarrett ought to come with a warning label! 

Danny couldn’t decide if he wanted to fall forward or skitter backwards, and Steve’s persuasive mouth wasn’t making the decision any easier. He should have been embarrassed that his partner could work him this easily into a sexual frenzy, but if shame felt this good, all he wanted was more. They shouldn’t be doing this with two strangers on the other side of this very wall, but maybe that was what was urging Steve on? Petrus’s acute hearing was probably picking up every sound Danny was making. Was Steve going down on Danny to demonstrate to Petrus that they were lovers, partners, inseparable forever? 

Steve let go for half a second. Danny gasped out in dismay. Steve’s hot, wet mouth returned with a vengeance. He sucked like a trooper as he worked a roving, squirming hand deeper into Danny’s boxers. One spit-slickened digit wiggled inside Danny’s entrance. Steve teased his lover’s pleasure spot, sending stars through Danny’s brain. Danny lost all control. One leg instinctively rose up over Steve’s shoulder. Danny’s hips jolted and bucked as he came, screaming before he could stop himself. 

“Steve! Steve! God! Fuck! Steve!” 

McGarrett was chuckling, deep and wicked, as he worked every last shudder out of his lover. He held onto Danny’s firm thigh flung up over one shoulder, listened to Danny pant and growl and gasp until his lover’s hips stilled at last. Danny put out one shaking hand on a lower shelf, knocking a box of crackers off onto the floor as he scrambled for a steady spot to hold. His other hand was firmly clutching Steve’s hair. McGarrett released Danny’s cock with a languid, gentle lick, nosing Danny’s curls again on his way up to his navel. 

“Nothing to be jealous of, promise, Danno,” Steve comforted as he fixed Danny’s boxers, zipped his pants, and buckled his belt. 

“Mmm,” Danny groaned, putting both feet on the ground and standing unsteadily on wobbling legs. His brain was beginning to register complete thoughts again. 

“I belong to you. No matter what else happens.” 

“Mm hmm. Wait. What?" Danny worried. 

“Are we good?” Steve asked, rising up like a beast from the sea. Danny’s awed eyes followed him up as his lover grew taller and taller. Williams gulped. McGarrett was proof positive you didn’t have to be a creature of the night to enthrall someone. 

“What were we talking about?” Danny wondered.

“I don’t remember,” Steve lied, buttoning Danny’s shirt for him. 

“It was important,” Danny whined. 

Steve picked up the box of crackers, pulled them open, and stuffed one in his mouth. 

“I dunno, Danno.” 

They opened the pantry door and crept back to the kitchen. Ulfie was taking tentative bites from the food on his plate. 

“Oh. Here you are,” he said casually, eyes back on his plate the next second. Danny watched him suspiciously. 

“I didn’t think you folks could eat real food.”

“We can eat ‘real food’,” Petrus intoned angrily from the living room. He had left the wall adjoining the pantry, had gotten as far away as possible from the inescapable truth of Steve and Danny together. His expression was even more sour than before, yes, but there was no denying he was also very aroused by the thought of what had been going on inches away. 

“People food doesn’t quell the hunger as it once did,” Ulfie added. “That is not a slight against your cooking skills,” he promised to Steve. McGarrett shrugged one shoulder, picked up a plate, and began to wolf down his breakfast.

Petrus stared at Steve, eyes narrowed cattily. Steve grinned in reply. 

“We drink blood because it fills us more completely than food does,” Petrus answered Danny’s comment. "We drink blood because it is the only thing that will satisfy." 

“Good to know,” Danny said, picking up a plate too. He ate slowly, savoring every bite like it could be his last. Years in the Navy had honed Steve’s eating habits though. You spend fifteen years at a table with twenty other guys, fighting for every bite you stick in your mouth, and you’re going learn to eat fast. 

“A drop or two shared now would not go amiss,” Petrus added, striding over to Steve in what seemed like two steps. McGarrett gave Petrus his back, continuing to eat. 

“You wanna bite?” Steve wondered, offering a wiggly piece of bacon over one shoulder. Petrus took Steve’s hips and pushed him up to the counter. Danny growled around a bite of food, his plate clanking down hard. 

“Petrus, do behave," Ulfie called out in a nervous, half-hearted laugh.

“Cock tease,” Petrus whispered in Steve’s ear. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Danny protested. 

Petrus pulled Steve’s rent shirt shoulder aside, yanked off the bandage, and ran a fingernail on the red line on McGarrett’s skin. 

“Open your wound for me. I need to feed,” Petrus ordered. Steve put down his plate, setting the knife and fork down too. He glared at Petrus over one shoulder. 

“Say please,” Steve murmured. 

“I will not beg. Feed me. I am your guest, and I am hungry. Very hungry.”

To drive home his point, Petrus pushed Steve tighter against the counter, fingers digging into Steve’s hips. 

“Feed me, little brother,” Petrus whispered in Steve’s ear. Ulfie put out a hand to stop Danny from rushing forward. Steve picked up a knife from the counter, and handed it gently back to Petrus, handle first. 

“Help yourself.” 

Petrus snatched the blade, and sliced Steve’s skin. Red began to pour freely. McGarrett winced, but did not struggle. Petrus lapped desperately at the scarlet drops. 

“Stop it! What are you doing? Steve?!” Danny howled. 

“He won’t hurt him,” Ulfie promised. 

Danny wasn’t so sure. As Petrus lapped at Steve’s skin, his fangs slid out. Cold chills raced down Danny's spine at the sight of those points. Sated momentarily, Petrus caressed Steve's chest, the tip of his tongue riding up Steve’s shoulder, to his neck, up behind his ear. Steve groaned out. 

“Shall I finish what you and your lover started? I know he left you wanting,” Petrus hummed, his hand sliding around Steve’s front and moving downward. Steve’s head tilted back as he leaned into Petrus’s body behind him. Steve was whining helplessly to whatever Petrus was murmuring in his ear. 

“Stop it,” Danny hissed, moving around Ulfie to grab Petrus’s arm. Fingers flew out and latched onto Danny’s throat like a vice. He froze in place. Steve’s arm came around Petrus, dragging at the hand on Danny’s throat. Petrus allowed Steve to pull the choking grip free. He was too busy feeding to care what Danny did or didn’t do. Petrus held onto Steve’s hand, pulling the arm up behind his back. 

“Danno? Don’t be scared. Is blood lust. That’s all. Is okay…” Steve whispered. 

“No, it’s not!” Danny barked back, rubbing his bruised throat. 

“Feed Ulfie?” Steve pleaded. 

“What?!?” Danny exclaimed. 

“I can’t handle them both,” Steve murmured sleepily. 

“I bet you could handle us all, you little whore,” Petrus chuckled, free hand riding down Steve’s front again, cupping and stroking his cock through his pants. “I can smell him on your breath,” Petrus whispered, holding tight to the arm behind Steve’s back. "Shall we take turns at you? First me, and then him? I bet you would like that, wouldn't you?" 

Steve managed to growl before moaning out. 

“You don't agree? Make me stop,” Petrus purred. Steve lifted one of the muskets from his wide belt, cocked it, and held it over his shoulder. 

“Silver bullets. They’ll do more than leave a mark,” Steve whispered. “I would hardly miss at this range.” 

“Nor would I,” Petrus responded, fangs glistening dangerously. 

“Danny. I got this. Feed Ulfie, before he passes out,” Steve said again, keeping the hand musket pointed at Petrus. 

Danny whirled angrily on Ulfie, who was pale and ashamed, and ducking his eyes. 

“I wouldn’t ask, honestly I wouldn’t, but….” Ulfie blanched. 

“Hands where I can see them,” Danny growled at him, picking up the knife Steve had so willingly handed to Petrus. 

“Could you put it in a cup? Like a civilized being might drink? Petrus?” Ulfie said meaningfully, watching Petrus lap at Steve’s bare wound. Every flick of his tongue made Steve shudder, half in fear and half in pleasure. 

Danny retrieved a coffee mug, and carried it over to Ulfie. 

“That’s ambitious of you, and terribly generous, but I hardly need that much,” the other man mused. 

“How much do you need?” Danny asked Ulfie. Steve groaned out behind him, breath hitching sensually. Petrus continued to stroke Steve’s growing bulge, whispering in his ear between drinks. “Hey, hey, hey! What did he tell you?!” Danny warned. 

“It’s not uncommon to combine the act of feeding and the act of love,” Ulfie offered. 

“That isn’t love,” Danny muttered. 

Petrus slid the musket from Steve’s grip, laying it on the counter. 

“That’s a good boy. You know you like it,” Petrus purred. “Tell me how much you want me.” 

Steve pined huskily. 

“Ignore him. He’s doing it to get a rise out of you,” Ulfie murmured. Danny pouted as he nicked his finger, and gave it to Ulfie. The man squirmed squeamishly. “Perhaps I should take this opportune moment and explain that my relationship with Petrus is not exactly what you are obviously speculating.” 

“What?” Danny whined. 

“Petrus and I are compatriots, but we are not intimates, as it were.” 

“Are you trying to say that you and he aren’t fucking like horny weasels in a small cage?”

“He is a carnivore, but I am an herbivore. Entirely,” Ulfie insisted. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to jump to rash conclusions,” Danny promised. He held his bleeding finger up, not sure what to do with it. He thought about filling a teaspoon, like a dose of medicine. Ulfie was mesmerized by the drop which drooled down the side. 

“Fuck it,” Ulfie wheezed, grabbing Danny’s hand, pulling his finger deep. 

Danny grimaced, ignored the noises Ulfie was making, and turned to keep an eye on Petrus and Steve. He gasped, and yanked his hand away from Ulfie, and hurried to Steve’s defense. 

“Not done yet,” Ulfie protested. 

Petrus had turned Steve around, and was nuzzling his neck while unbuttoning his cargo pants. Steve was slack against the counter, arms laced around Petrus’s neck, legs opening, head tilted back submissively. 

“That’s enough!” Danny howled, getting between the two of them, pushing and shoving and backing Petrus up like a battering ram hitting a large wooden portal. It wouldn’t have been possible to separate them, not without Ulfie’s help. 

“There you are. Deep breaths, brother. Deep breaths,” Ulfie soothed. “You want a cold drink? Should I splash you with water?”

“Leave me be,” Petrus warned. 

“As you wish,” Ulfie bowed, releasing him at once. 

Danny was staring into Steve’s dazed eyes, pupils dilated wide. Steve rasped for breath, lips wet as he panted. Danny buttoned Steve's pants and held him upright. 

“Did you enthrall him?” Danny accused Petrus. The large man grinned wickedly, moved in close again. 

“Five more seconds, and I would have had him naked on the floor.” 

“Petrus, do behave,” Ulfie cautioned. 

“He wants me. He’s always wanted me.”

“Petrus. The Mistress would be most put out at you if you turned Scotch.”

“Who is to say I would turn him? Maybe I just want to fuck him until he can't move, then drain him dry as a bone?” Petrus taunted. Steve weaved unsteadily, and Danny patted his cheeks, rousing him to alertness. 

“The Mistress would exile you if you harmed him. Is that what you want?” Ulfie whispered. 

“No,” Petrus pouted.

“You must not be unkind to our host. He has agreed to help us with our little domestic difficulties. He has agreed to put himself and his friend on the line. There will be no more of this jealous tom-foolery. Scotch is clearly spoken for. He and the Detective are together. You will not continue this nonsense. You will keep your hands, and other protruding extremities, to yourself. Or else,” Ulfie scolded. 

“Or else what?” 

“I will march you to the nearest crossroads, summon your mother, and tell her what a naughty boy you’ve been,” Ulfie threatened, tapping the crucifix against Petrus’s chest. 

That made Petrus straighten up in a hurry. He tugged away from Danny and Steve, and faced Ulfie. 

“Don’t tell Mother. I’ll behave.” 

“You bet your big, burly ass, you will,” Ulfie nodded. “Up against the wall and stay there,” he motioned. Petrus obeyed. “Scotch? All is well with you?” 

“Everything’s kinda fuzzy,” Steve wobbled. 

“Splash him with cold water, and take him upstairs. He’ll need to rest.”

“Oooooh, pretty lights,” Steve whispered as Danny hauled him by one arm up the staircase. Most of Steve went along for the ride, but his head seemed to want to stay downstairs. It lolled sideways and backwards, and reluctantly followed the rest of him. 

There was a loud thud and a squirrelly giggle. Danny returned down the stairs on fast feet. 

"You, thank you. You, keep your fucking hands to yourself," Danny barked before he disappeared again. The bedroom door slammed. Ulfie heard heavy scraps moving across the floor. 

"Now you've done it. He's scooting around furniture because of you," Ulfie scolded Petrus. "Very big furniture." 

"Sorry," Petrus pouted. 

"Behave. I'm warning you. Your mother is one summons away. Do you hear me?" 

"Yes," Petrus whined.


	11. Edicts

There was a soft melody playing on the wind when Danny woke up. It was already dark outside. Notes were floating dreamily on the breeze coming in through the open windows, teasing the curtains into the air. 

‘So you heard I crossed over the line. Do I have regrets? Well not yet. There are some, some who give blood. I give love. I give. Soon, before the sun, before the sun begins to rise. I know that I, I must give, so that I, I can live.’ *** 

Danny rolled over, wondering where the hell the music was coming from. Was someone playing a radio on the lanai? He dislodged what he had thought were a couple of pillows tucked up against his back. The pillows moved, limbs stretched out, and legs competed for room with his own. 

Steve woke up with a porn star drawl of ecstasy. Danny was immediately annoyed, not just because the big lug was on top of him, but because that groan had been directed right into his ear. He wasn’t so sure who Steve was dreaming about. As Danny shifted onto his back and oriented himself, Steve nestled against his front, hiding an eagle nose and firm jaw in the crook of Danny’s neck. Steve’s upper half was firmly planted, but his bottom half rose slightly, legs spreading. He began nibbling Danny’s neck and sleepily rocking his hips. Mumbling and cooing soft moans. Sucking persuasively on Danny’s earlobe. 

“Mmm…..Danno….mmm…uhnnn…” 

Danny found a small smile, resting his hand on Steve’s broad back, stroking tenderly. At least Steve’s dirty dream was about him. It wasn’t that Danny minded at all. Steve woke up in fuck-mode most mornings, which explained the necessity of those cold dips in the ocean to cool his hot blood. Steve and Danny had actually fooled around a couple times while Steve was nearly asleep. It’s just that the moment Danny came awake enough to know it was Steve on top of him, breathing his name in his ear, Danny also realized there were two large strangers standing at the end of the bed, whispering among themselves. 

MUDDERFUDDER! THE WINDOWS WERE OPEN!

Danny bolted upright, dislodging Steve, who rolled over and latched onto the headboard and the mattress to keep from falling backwards onto the floor. Even groggy with sleep, Steve had awesome reflexes. 

“Sorry to startle you,” Ulfie murmured. Petrus had the face of a stone golem. Ulfie wanted to crawl away and hide. 

“HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE?” Danny screamed. 

Petrus, Ulfie, and Steve all glanced at the open windows, and back at Danny. Steve raised a brow. Danny squinted at him with murder in his heart, absolutely daring him to say one tiny word. Steve offered up a tiny smile. Yes, the answer was perfectly obvious. No, you don’t have to say so. It had been more of a rhetorical exclamation of surprise, rather than an actual question. 

“You weren’t answering the knock on the door,” Ulfie explained. Steve’s head swiveled in the dim light towards the portal. 

“Why is the dresser over there?” he wondered, clearing his throat and licking his dry lips. 

“To keep them out,” Danny hissed privately. 

“Well, that worked,” Steve snorted up a giggle. He swayed unsteadily as he stood up. “Okay. Which one of you fanged fuckheads enthralled me?” he demanded with a growl. Ulfie pointed at Petrus. Petrus dipped his head in shame. Ulfie nudged Petrus in the arm with one shoulder, tilting his head meaningfully towards Steve. The two men had a conversation with their eyes. Ulfie’s blue orbs tightened around the edges, and Petrus’s bat-black ones twitched with annoyance. Petrus gave in first though. 

“I apologize for my inexcusable behavior towards you, Steven. You have my word, my bond, that it will not happen again,” Petrus intoned, and then bowed slightly before straightening back up. Steve studied him worriedly. 

“What did you do?” McGarrett asked. Williams put his feet on the floor, and stared back over one shoulder at Steve. 

“You don’t remember?” 

Steve shook his head no. 

“That can happen with enthrallment. Degrees of severity range from a mild headache to full-on retrograde and anterograde amnesia surrounding the event in question,” Ulfie rambled. “I’d go into further detail, but we’re in a terrible rush. The sun has gone down. The Mistress will be impatient for progress. And your devilish device has been bleating like a stuck sheep for the last ten minutes.” 

“My devilish device?” Steve asked. 

“Your phone,” Petrus answered. “Am I forgiven?” 

“We had a long talk,” Ulfie explained. “He is very sorry for how he behaved.” 

“Hmmm?” Steve hummed, rolling his sore shoulder. “Did you put the moves on me again, big guy?” 

“Yes.” 

“Consider yourself on notice. Once more, and I tell the Mistress.” 

“Understood. I was deep in blood lust, but that is no excuse for my behavior.” 

“You know the Edicts of the Gild,” Steve chided sternly. “If the intended object is currently bonded to another, it is forbidden to…” 

“Do not lecture me, mortal. I am familiar with the edicts. I must not trespass against your bond with….him….” Petrus’s jealous eyes flittered onto Danny with loathing in their depths. “So long as your bond remains firm, and all parties, either living or undead, or any combination thereof, remain committed to one another. Yes, I am familiar with the Edicts of the Gild.” 

“You are forbidden from breaking up a marriage, a betrothal, or a committed liaison,” Ulfie whispered to Petrus. 

“They are not married. They are not betrothed.” 

“They are committed though, and you must respect that,” Ulfie scolded. 

“Yes, please, thank you,” Danny interjected. 

“I understand. So long as Steven is committed to Daniel, I may not ‘put the moves on’ Steven,” Petrus said, using air quotes without the slightest hint of sarcasm.

“That, downstairs, was a fuckload more than putting the moves on him,” Danny snarled. 

“Your apology is accepted," Steve said. 

“He called you a whore,” Danny whispered heatedly. Steve shifted his eyes at Ulfie and Petrus, and gently back to Danny.

“So have you,” Steve said, a shy blush coloring his cheeks for a second before vanishing again. Danny gasped and bit his mouth in embarrassment. 

“Two entirely different situations,” Danny defended. 

“Petrus apologized. I accepted. There is nothing more to discuss,” Steve decided. “Shower,” he whispered, pulling his torn shirt off over his head. When he encountered the large blood stain on the back left shoulder, he frowned at Petrus. 

“Again, my apologies,” Petrus bowed again. 

“Help me move the dresser, brother,” Steve said, grunting as he grabbed the furniture and tugged. “How…the…bloody…freaking….HELL… DID YOU move this on your own?” McGarrett asked Danny. 

The detective smirked, and darted out the bedroom door towards the bathroom. He had to pee like a racehorse. 

“Hey,” Steve protested. He pouted hard when he heard the shower turn on. 

Petrus and Ulfie were carrying on a conversation with their eyes. 

“What?” Steve demanded. 

“Will your bond with Detective Williams make you invulnerable to Miss Eleanor’s carnal wishes?” Ulfie asked. 

Steve gulped loudly. Ulfie wasn’t sure which part of the sentence had stunned Steve’s brain. 

“I doubt she will be deterred in the slightest,” Petrus answered grimly. 

“Why are my clothes sticking to me?” Steve frowned, turning away to adjust himself personally. 

“You don’t want to know,” Ulfie whispered, patting his nearest shoulder. 

“Or maybe you do?” Petrus chortled darkly. 

“I’ll be in the shower,” Steve complained, pulling clean briefs out of the dresser, and stalking towards the bathroom like a disgruntled cat. 

“There it goes again,” Ulfie called out. 

“What?” Steve called back from behind the bathroom door. He was sliding out of his cargo pants. His cell phone was ringing downstairs. 

“Your devilish device,” Ulfie said. 

“Would one of you be a dear and go get that for me?” Steve asked. 

“I’m not your hand maiden. Get it yourself,” Petrus pouted. 

“Thank you so much, Petrus Rolfsson. I needed the mental image of you, dressed in a silken gown, combing his hair, holding his mirror, telling him how fetching he is,” Ulfie complained all the way down the stairs and back up again. “Your device, Scotch.” 

“Thank you, Ulfie. You are a dear. I’d kiss you in gratitude, but I am committed, and I know that’s not your cup of tea,” Steve said. One long arm appeared out from behind the door. Ulfie dropped the phone into Steve’s hand. 

“For the record, you could use a good hand maiden,” Ulfie said. 

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. It was Chin. I’ll call him back. Danny?! Chin called!” Steve hollered. 

“Call him back,” Danny retorted from behind the shower curtain. 

“Chin?!” Steve shouted. 

“Steve?!” Chin shouted back. 

“Sorry I wasn’t fast enough to pick up. Howzit?” 

“Steve, there’s a strange woman standing in my office, asking me where you are.” 

“What are you doing at the office on the weekend?” 

“She is exceedingly tall. Black hair. Black eyes. Dressed like she’s cosplaying Harry Potter or worse. Showed me ID which says she’s an Inquisitor with an agency called the Gild. Is that some Black Ops branch of the CIA? Maybe I’m imagining this, but she reminds me of the murder victim from the Norwegian consulate. Who, by the way, is missing from Max’s morgue, but that’s okay, because Max claims there never was a murder victim from the Norwegian embassy, so, it isn’t a problem as far as he’s concerned. Only that my little cousin is frantic because she lost the potential perp, and we’ve lost our murder victim, and she’s worried you’re going to be angry with her.” 

Chin had a tone in his voice which said he was furious with Steve, but he was being patient because he didn’t want to lose his temper. And probably out of respect for Steve. Maybe even a little hold-over respect for Jack McGarrett too. 

“Tell Kono to chill out. It’s all good. I’ll explain when we get there. Danny and I will be at the office in twenty minutes,” Steve replied. 

“Thank you,” Chin said crisply before hanging up. 

“What’s wrong with Chin?” Danny asked, peering out of the curtain. 

“Says there’s a woman in my office who looks like Petrus, and like she's cosplaying Harry Potter.”

“Anyone you know?” Danny cocked a tiny smile. 

“That doesn’t sound like anyone I know. Except maybe the bouncer at Frisky Lickins’. Kika Kahue.” 

“You’re on a first name basis with the bouncer at the seediest and most notorious strip club in all of Honolulu?” 

“We went to school together,” Steve shrugged. “Shake a leg,” he added. 

Danny was toweling off. He shot Steve a dirty look. Steve peered out into the hallway and asked Ulfie and Petrus a question.

“Do either of you know an Inquisitor with the Gild who looks like Petrus?” 

The big man’s expression split the mirror in the hallway. The sheet of silver went up with a crackle of brilliant shards. Ulfie smiled brightly. 

“That sounds like Dotterwich,” Ulfie revealed. Petrus wasn’t talking. 

“Is she a good witch or bad witch?” Steve asked. 

“She is his bond speaker,” Ulfie smiled even wider. 

“Ah,” Steve mused, not happy at all. “Petrus Rolfsson, you’ve acquired a parole officer. Apparently you’ve been a very naughty boy since I last saw you.” 

Petrus put a big hand on Ulfie's chest. 

"You will not tell him what I did in Rotterdam." 

"I will not tell him, what you did, in Rotterdam," Ulfie repeated, darting scared eyes between Steve and Petrus.

Danny collected the phone from Steve, who was ready to get into the shower. Williams leaned against the bathroom wall. 

“You think that’s a good idea?” 

“What?” 

“Taking these two to meet Chin and Kono.” 

“We need the whole team on this. I’ll be quick. Need to pack a bag before we go. Wait for me downstairs,” Steve said. All business. Face serious. Eyes cold with calculated thoughts. He turned the water on again, and paused before he drew the curtain. A faint smile appeared. “It’ll be okay, Danno. Unclench your butt, and learn to roll with it, or this could be a very long case.”

Danny graced Steve with a four-letter glance and a middle-finger salute before exiting the bathroom. 

“You know I’m right,” Steve called out over the shower. 

“I know you’re a stubborn son of a bitch. That’s what I know!” Danny called back as he skirted past Petrus and Ulfie and stormed around in the bedroom in search of clothes. The two guests watched the exchange like a tennis match. 

“Don’t talk bad about Doris,” Steve called back, lathering up his hair, glad the curtain could hide his smile. “While you’re in the bedroom, would you grab the black duffel in the bottom of the closet?” 

“There are three black duffels in here, Steven!” Danny called back, putting on boxers from the top drawer in the dresser. He moved shirts around in the closet, hunting and pecking for a comfortable one, nice button-down blue with gray pinstripes. 

“On the left.” 

“This is insane, Steve,” Danny called out, picking up the bag in the middle. 

“On the left,” Steve repeated. 

Danny chucked the correct bag up on the bed with a rattle and thump. Next he took a pair of gray slacks out and slid into them quickly, all too aware that Ulfie and Petrus were still watching and listening. Belt, and socks, and shoes, and tie, don’t forget the tie, if only because it would annoy Steve. 

Steve emerged from the bathroom while Danny was combing his hair at the bedroom mirror. Danny had tossed a pair of dark blue cargo pants on the bed with a light blue teeshirt. Socks and boots, and Steve was ready, running fingers through his damp locks. Danny was working on his hair. Steve stood behind him, fingers and hands on his shoulders. 

“I like you in that color.” 

“Doesn’t make you less of an ass, Steven,” Danny replied darkly. 

McGarrett chuckled, kissed Danny’s shoulder, and grabbed the duffel from the bed. 

“How cute. You match,” Ulfie smiled as Steve went past him and down the stairs in a flurry of footsteps. Petrus rolled his eyes. The two men followed in McGarrett’s wake. Danny joined them downstairs, not a hair out of place. If tonight proved to be a date with Destiny, She was bound to be impressed with him. 

“That about covers it,” Steve said, examining the contents of the bag. Danny watched Steve nuzzle the antique pistols before sliding them into the bag, along with an assortment of grenades, flashlights, and ammo. Ulfie and Petrus were examining the various goodies in Steve’s bag too. 

“No wooden stakes?” Danny teased maliciously. “Hold up there, SEAL boy. Stop. Whoa.”

Danny had Steve by one belt loop. McGarrett was cramming more armaments and bits of string into his cargo pockets, along with a couple cheap lighters from the kitchen junk drawer. 

“What?” Steve fussed, rocking on his heels. Danny kept a grip on McGarrett. 

“I don’t even know where to begin.” 

“Then don’t. You can tell me ‘I told you so’ later. We’ve got a job here. There’s a sixteen-year-old girl out there, possibly in a life-or-death situation. Time is of the essence.” 

“Steven. Eleanor is not an innocent sixteen-year old girl. She’s a two-hundred-fifty-year old supernatural being with whom you have a tenuous connection. Am I right or not?” 

“Yes.” 

“When last you were in her presence, she tried to drain your life’s blood and turn you into her slave? Yes or no?” 

“Yes.”

“She took you home to her sister, who is also a supernatural being with whom you have a tenuous connection. You barely escaped with your life. But here you are, twenty years later, willing to put yourself out there, and find this dangerous, malevolent, angry, vengeful, two-hundred-fifty-year old supernatural creature who has, oh, by the way, been following you and I around Hawaii for the weeks. Yes or no?” 

Steve was working his way through the list of adjectives. He finally nodded.

“Yes. What’s your bloody point?”

Danny let go of McGarrett’s shoulders, and rubbed between his own eyes with his fingertips. The detective took a deep breath, moved the fingertips to his mouth. He rocked on his feet for a second. Took another deep breath. Then began to speak. And stopped again, shaking his head. 

“One thousand one, one thousand two…” Steve teased. "Looking for the right words, or censoring out the dirty ones?" 

“I was about to tell you this is the craziest thing we’ve ever done. But strangely enough, I don’t think it is,” Danny admitted. Steve’s expression brightened considerably. 

“That’s the spirit,” McGarrett bubbled. 

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe we should just go at this like it’s any other case. Eleanor is missing. Lucy wants you to find her. I mean, if we are careful, and we don’t do anything stupid, we’ll be fine. Oh, wait. I forgot who I was talking to. Of course you’re going to do something stupid,” Danny frowned. 

“If I were the sensitive sort, I’d be very offended,” Steve intoned playfully. 

“Kiss already, and let’s go,” Petrus growled. 

"Dotterwich will be most unhappy if we keep her waiting too long," Ulfie warned. 

"You will not tell him what I did in Rotterdam," Petrus repeated, grabbing Ulfie by the throat this time. 

"Maybe I'll ask Dotterwich what you did in Rotterdam," Steve toyed with Petrus, loosening his friend's grip on his other friend's throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** The lyrics are from "Give" by Tori Amos.


	12. The Gild

Steve and Danny popped through the doors to HQ, one being with two halves. They were striding in sync, and stopped on a dime when they encountered Chin and Kono at the close end of the large, table-top computer. The cousins were testy and horrified, not together, but separately. 

“Danno, I’m just saying that every culture on the planet has a mythology about supernatural beings who walk the night, hide in the shadows, and consume the blood of humans. Why can’t you wrap your brain around the possibility that these people do indeed exist, especially in the face of actual, physical proof? I mean, fuck, man, they’re right there,” Steve concluded with a manly pout. 

“Bite me,” Danny retorted, arms crossing over his chest. 

Steve chortled, argument forgotten. Amusement took over his entire person. He bounced his head once or twice, a silent laugh making his big shoulders shake. He tucked his head down and to the side, and gave Danny a tiny shove in the shoulder. 

“A good one, yeah?” Danny checked for reassurance, shoving Steve back. 

“ ‘Bite me’,” Steve agreed, giving a big goofy chuckle. “Chin? Kono? Hey,” Steve smiled at the cousins, neither of whom was in any mood for his or Danny’s weird humor. McGarrett’s amusement fizzled fast. The air crackled with tension as Kono and Chin saw who had walked in behind Steve and Danny. 

“What the….” Chin babbled. “What are you?” His usual cool façade slipped for a second before he could retrieve it. He was checking out the surveillance camera feed, which showed two suits of clothes, but no heads, no bare skin. 

“Three, two, one….” Ulfie showed the appropriate fingers, then ducked down behind Steve with a peep of alarm when Kono drew her gun on him. 

“STEVE, LOOK OUT!” Kalakaua warned. Ulfie had latched onto McGarrett’s shoulders. Only his fingertips were visible. 

Petrus grumbled, “Brother, you’re embarrassing me and yourself,” as he reached over Danny’s head to put a hand on Kono’s weapon. Kono produced a second weapon, a large P30, and trained it on Petrus. 

“DON’T SHOOT!” Ulfie exclaimed. 

“Might we dispense with the usual pleasantries, just this once?” Petrus intoned. 

“Stop where you are!” Kalakaua commanded. 

“Nice to see you again, Officer Kalakaua?” Ulfie offered up a friendly smile. He ducked back down, raising his hands. Steve stood where he was, but his grimace was making his eyebrows get tighter and tighter. 

“BOSS?!” Kono exclaimed. 

“At ease, Kono. It’s okay. At ease. They’re with me. Where’s the Inquisitor?”

“They’re with you?!?” Kono exclaimed. 

“In your office,” Chin pointed. “What do you mean, they’re with you?!” 

“Kono? Chin? Petrus? Ulfie? Introduce yourselves. Make friends. Be nice. I’ll be back in a second,” Steve said, breezing to the left and into his office. “Hey, lady! Put that down! It was a present from my dad.” 

Danny’s eyes followed Steve, and his body wanted to as well, but Chin took hold of his arm before he could race away. 

“What the hell, Jersey?” Kono asked, lowering her weapons. 

“What is going on?” Chin asked. 

“They’re friends of Steve’s,” Danny said. 

“Friends,” Ulfie echoed hopefully. Danny nodded.

“You aren’t dead,” Chin decided as he studied Petrus. Rolfsson regarded him with cool disdain. 

“What sort of friends does Steve have who can escape from a locked interrogation room? Disappear into thin air?” Kono exclaimed. 

“Actually, it’s a fine mist or fog which is able to penetrate even the smallest crack. It takes years to perfect. Thank you noticing,” Ulfie bowed. 

“You’re not dead,” Chin remarked a second time to Petrus, who remained steadfastly unamused with the entire situation. 

“They’re vampires,” Danny whispered while watching Steve in his office. 

“We don’t use that word!” Petrus bawled loud and deep. 

“For real?” Kono blanched. 

“It’s considered derogatory,” Ulfie explained. 

“Walking, talking creatures of the night? The living undead?” Chin asked. 

“Nosferatu?” Danny offered. 

“Oh! Really! There’s no need to be so insulting!” Ulfie was horrified. 

"You're undead?" Chin asked skeptically.

“Technically, I have sustained a ‘mortal’ injury twenty-six times, but I’ve been able to heal from each of them,” Petrus replied. 

“Twenty-seven times,” Ulfie corrected. 

“Twenty-six times.” 

“You don’t consider that near-decapitation in 1856 to be a mortal injury?” 

“I suffered worse learning how to shave,” Petrus laughed. 

“Prove it,” Chin muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Prove what?” Ulfie asked innocently. 

“Prove that you are what you say you are,” Chin waited. 

“How?” Petrus intoned. 

“Show him your fangs or something,” Danny urged, eyes back on Steve and the Inquisitor in McGarrett’s office. 

The tall, strange woman put down Steve’s ship-in-a-bottle, and slowly turned around. McGarrett entered his private lair like a jungle cat, tail lashing with impatience and dismay. It wasn’t her cold smile or her penetrating bat-black eyes which made Steve’s voice catch in his throat, but the dueling scar which ran from her hairline to her jawline, a ruddy, thick reminder of what must have been a terrifying and ferocious battle to the last breath. At least for the other guy. 

“Commander McGarrett, in the flesh. Delightful,” she purred, showing row upon row of teeth, including a set of two-inch fangs. 

Steve was not impressed. The woman chucked a badge at Steve while her eyes traced over his medals and commendations in the shadowbox on the wall. 

“Ingrid Dotterwich, Third Degree Inquisitor, Hinterlands Division. I would lie and tell you it’s a pleasure to meet you, but we both know that isn’t the truth, don’t we?”

“Who are you, lady, and why are you here?” 

Dotterwich retracted her fangs, because they proved an impediment to clear speech. 

“I’m an Inquisitor with the Gild. I’ve been assigned to your case, Great Mother help me.”

“Dotterwich,” Steve murmured, comparing her to her badge picture. 

“May I ask? What is your official rank? You were in the Navy at one time?”

“I’m a Lieutenant Commander in the Naval Reserves.” 

“But you currently hold a constabulary position with civilian law enforcement?” 

“Yes. I’m the head of a special task force whose prime directive is to root out and prevent high crimes on the island, at the pleasure of the Governor,” Steve replied, giving Dotterwich back her badge. Another jagged smile bisected her stern face. Her eyes lit up with understanding. 

“You’re an Enforcer then, are you?” 

“I suppose, yes.” 

“Oh goody. The Elders have given me an Enforcer to protect,” Dotterwich drawled sourly. 

“Are you following Petrus around to make sure he stays out of trouble?” 

“No, but rest assured, I will deal with Venn Rolfsson when I’m done with you. Commander McGarrett, the Gild has sent me to collect you, and place you in protective custody. I’ll give you time to say your goodbyes, but then you must come with me until this blows over.” 

“Protective custody?” Steve questioned. 

A squirrelly laugh burst out of Danny’s chest as he bustled over to Steve’s open office door, a flurry of steps which circled around McGarrett and ventured close enough to Dotterwich to draw her attention. 

“Yes, Commander. You will remain under my aegis, in my company, until such time as the Elders of the Gild decide you are no longer in mortal danger,” the Inquisitor said. She centered her cold eyes on Danny. “May I help you, little man?” 

“Detective Danny Williams,” he said, offering a hand. 

“Inquisitor Ingrid Dotterwich,” she said, staring in disdain until he withdrew the offer.

“Lady? Do you have any idea at all who you’re dealing with?” Danny questioned, poking a bent thumb at Steve while getting between him and the newcomer. 

“I am quite familiar with Commander McGarrett’s CV. I’ve read his Gild file backwards and forwards.”

“The Gild has a file on me?” Steve questioned skeptically.

“A very tiny file, only about six inches thick, with supporting addendums dating back two decades, and a list of reference materials which would choke a war charger, but yes, the Gild has a file on you,” Dotterwich purred. 

“Then you might have noticed that he spends most of his life in mortal danger?” Danny chuckled. “It’s a special day when he’s not running in front of buses, dodging bullets, or wrestling seven-headed hydras.” 

“Recent activities have brought him back to the notice of the Watchers. The Watchers brought their reports to the Elders. The Elders decided it was time to intervene on Commander McGarrett’s behalf. They have assigned an Inquisitor and an Enforcer, to offer protective custody until such time as the wanton, dangerous fugitive from justice can be apprehended and incarcerated,” Dotterwich explained. 

“You’re the Inquisitor? Where’s your Enforcer?” 

“She got delayed coming over the waters. Hit a stiff wind. Having trouble coalescing. May take some time to pull herself together,” Dotterwich explained uncomfortably. 

“Wanton? Dangerous….?” Ulfie gasped. “That’s harsh, don’t you think? With all due respect, Inquisitor Dotterwich, you’ve blown this out of proportion. Petrus is a trifle wanton, and on occasion, he has been dangerous, when he’s been pressed by unpleasant circumstances, but to call him a fugitive from justice is entirely beyond the pale! He served his time. He’s kept his word, by and large.” 

The Inquisitor heaved up a sigh, and ignored Danny long enough to glower at Ulfie. 

“Don’t take that tone with me, Venn Yorgeson. I was not referring to your dubious compatriot, the reprobate to your immediate left.” 

“Oh! I…um… Forgive the intrusion, and the tone then. My mistake,” Ulfie bowed to Dotterwich, who bowed back. 

“Of course. Toddle on now. There’s a dear. You and Rolfsson would do well to let the professionals handle this.” 

“Which wanton and dangerous fugitive from justice were you referring to?” Danny asked. 

“Eleanor Philomena Watson.”

“You’re here to protect me from Nellie?” Steve laughed. 

“Do not let her corporeal form confuse you. Miss Watson is wanted in all six Gild regions, for various and sundry offenses, not limited to the abduction and illegal enthrallment of mortals, physical molestation of said mortals, the procurement and employment of body parts and physical matter in unlicensed witchery, high chicanery in the pursuit of unlawful carnal knowledge with unwilling subjects, etc. etc. etc. And if you think for one minute the Gild didn’t see right through her poor sister’s supposedly accidental en flambé last month, you’re underestimating me and my Enforcer,” Dotterwich laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. 

Danny stared hard at Steve, who shrugged one shoulder in defense, and addressed Dotterwich. 

“What if I refuse your offer of protection?” Steve demanded. 

Dotterwich swelled with irritation. One eye got larger than the other. Her dueling scar turned redder than her face.

“Why in the name of all that is holy would you do that?” 

“I don’t need your help.” 

“I’d like to think even you wouldn’t be so stupid as to refuse the Gild’s magnanimous offer.” 

“Maybe I’m under the impression I can handle this myself?” 

Dotterwich cackled, her scarred face twisting with amusement. 

“How quaint. This has never happened to me before. A mortal who thinks he can handle the situation himself. I may die of shock,” she drawled sarcastically. 

“Inquisitor Dotterwich, no disrespect, but I am an officer of the law, and I was a Navy SEAL. I can take care of myself,” Steve defended. 

“Not from what I’ve read in the previous reports. Miss Watson had you chained naked to her bed in a state of rapt enthrallment last time your paths crossed. Without her sister’s intervention, you would have died. Most people would find that to be a most unpleasant experience. But perhaps you aren’t most people? Am I intervening between you and the perverted sexual abuse you secretly crave?” 

Steve went black with rage. He stepped past Danny to get up in Dotterwich’s face. He poked her in the chest with one long finger as Ulfie winced and drew back in concern. Petrus looked like a kid at Christmas, thrilled to bits.

“Dotterwich, if you weren’t a woman, I would demand satisfaction on the field of honor for a remark like that.” 

“Are you challenging me to a duel, mortal?” 

“I would be, if you weren’t a woman.” 

“Oh goody. One of those, are you? McGarrett, if I weren’t sworn to protect your miserable, male, mortal life with mine own hand, rest assured, I would be loading the pistols and counting off ten paces,” Dotterwich replied, getting nose to nose with Steve. 

“Look, Lady. I don’t need you to protect me from a lovesick, sixteen-year-old girl, thank you very much,” Steve hissed. 

“McGarrett,” Dotterwich was suddenly all teeth again. “You’re adorable. Truly, you are. You don’t know how tempted I am to turn you loose, and let you prove what an arrogant fool you really are.” 

“I begin to understand why you’re so very fond of her, Brother,” Steve cocked his head to one side to catch Petrus’s eyes. 

“She is the love of my life, the light of my days,” Petrus mocked melodically. 

“You can’t force McGarrett to accept your offer of protection,” Ulfie reminded Dotterwich quietly. 

“Silence, worm,” Dotterwich growled. 

“He could sign a waiver, absolving you of any responsibility, releasing you from your vow,” Ulfie continued. The Inquisitor snarled darkly, raising the hairs on the back of Ulfie’s neck. 

“I’m here to protect Enforcer McGarrett, whether he likes it or not.” 

“No, I don’t like it. No, you aren’t. Thanks, but no thanks. Good bye. Don’t let the door hit you in the ass,” Steve replied. 

Danny took Steve by one elbow, and pulled him tenderly to the other side of his office, other side of his big desk. 

“Babe, let’s think this over for a sec?” Danny pleaded. 

“No,” Steve pouted. 

“I have my reservations about it too, but this situation is a lot more serious than you let on. Isn’t it?” 

“It’s not…it’s…not something I can’t handle,” Steve shook his head, attempting to keep the conversation as private as possible. “Nellie is not a dangerous person. She’s high spirited. She doesn’t take rejection well. She never has. Like most girls that age. I mean, put yourself in her shoes for a second.” 

“Steve, if the nice lady came all this way to keep you from harm, you think maybe for a second we might entertain the possibility than in the last twenty years, Nellie has gotten more dangerous and powerful than you remember her?” 

“I don’t need to be protected,” Steve hissed. 

“Unlicensed witchery? High chicanery? What is chicanery?” 

“The legal definition is the use of deceit for the purpose of misleading someone,” Ulfie interjected quietly. 

“It was illegal to use Marcus’s scent to throw you off her presence,” Petrus added. 

“Steve, how about this? You stay with Dotterwich, and you let me, Chin, and Kono handle this case?” 

“How about no?”

“How about you take your own safety seriously for once?” 

“How about fuck you, I’m an adult, and I can handle myself?” 

“How about you watch your language in front of a lady, or I smack you in the mouth?” 

“Sorry, Kono,” Steve said. Kalakaua grinned. Dotterwich’s eyes got tighter around the edges as Danny and Steve continued to argue, this time in inaudible whispers. 

“Excuse me?” 

Seven people whirled towards the open doorway. Six of the seven went for weapons. The young girl at the portal curtseyed low, holding up a large parchment envelope. Jasmine and rosewater wafted off of her in waves. Blonde ringlets cascaded over her shoulders as she straightened up from her curtsey. She tugged her tight gown into place. She looked like a tiny cupcake with decorative icing, curls of ribbon, waves of pink material, and stiff whalebone stays. 

“My lady did bid me deliver this to Lieutenant Commander Steven J. McGarrett?” 

She spoke with the smallest, sweetest voice, wearing an adorable, harmless smile. She bent her tiny body into a lower curtsey than before. Inquisitor Dotterwich was the first to speak. She pulled out her badge, and held it up in one hand while raising the wicked cutlass in her other hand. 

“Stay where thou art, malevolent creature. State your name and produce some ID, or I’ll apprehend you on the spot.” 

A snarl and flash lit the room. Steve grabbed Danny. McGarrett managed to cram Williams into the two-foot-square space under the desk before leaping up and firing into the chaos. It was like an M-80 had gone off in Steve’s office. Shards of glass and splinters of wood flew around in the vortex of wind and smoke. There was an unearthly howling. Ulfie bellowed in pain. 

“On your left!” Chin shouted. 

“On your left!” Kono called back. 

“Get down!” Steve ordered. Danny saw several forms hit the deck. Steve fired again. Gory, red gunk splattered noisily across the floor and three of the walls. A finger skittered under the desk and past Danny’s leg. The gore must have sprayed across the ceiling too, because an unpleasant, viscous liquid dripped down on Danny when he fought past Steve’s legs in order to stand up. Another blast followed, this one from the other side of the room, throwing gunpowder, sparks, and burnt smoke around. 

“Ventu, Mater,” someone intoned deeply.

As the smoke and stench dissipated, something with ragged hair, long nails, and bare feet leapt up onto the open window ledge. Shreds of pink satin and ribbon covered her. She paused to cackle and howl into the night before she went loping off into the shadows, dragging a wound leg as she scampered away. 

Steve stood beside Danny, physically patting him up and down to make sure he was unharmed. Petrus tucked a broad-barrel blunderbuss back under his cloak. Dotterwich calmly tossed back her braid, letting shards of glass fly about with a tinkle of sound. 

“Some assistance, if you would be so kind?” Ulfie trembled. 

“Brah! You're bleeding!" Kono exclaimed, using both hands to help stem the flow of blood from Ulfie’s wounded left arm. 

“Oh. Damn. Most painful. Not unlike the sinking of the H.M.S. Proctor. God, what a memory. I’ll be fine. Thank you. Fetch my ulna, will you? It’s over there by the bookcase. So kind of you.” 

“Finger. Finger. Finger,” Petrus murmured, retrieving bones and bits from around the room. “Brother, she may have gotten away with one or two of your metacarpals.” 

“Not to worry. They should regenerate. Entirely my fault. I shouldn’t have reached for her shoulder at the same time you planned to fire,” Ulfie winced. 

“Pull yourself together, would you?” Dotterwich sighed, sheathing her cutlass. She tossed the envelope at Steve. 

“Lay them out on the desk. There’s a love. Won’t take but a few minutes to heal. I hope. Let me get into position.” 

Chin returned with a first-aid kit, while Petrus and Kono played 52 Pick-Up with Ulfie’s parts. 

“You good, Ulfie?” Steve asked, holding the envelope absently in one hand. It was splattered with gore too. Pink ribbons and calligraphy decorated the folded square. 

“Perfectly well. Not as bad as it looks. It's not all mine. Some of it belongs to her too,” Yorgeson chuckled grimly. Chin was wrapping gauze around Ulfie’s arm, piecing the bones in place, watching in amazement as he started regenerating. 

“Still convinced you can handle this on your own without the Gild?” Dotterwich asked Steve, who was staring around the floor. 

“Thumb!” Steve exclaimed, hurrying to put the bones in place. Chin was wrapping as fast as he could. “Oh, Ulfie. Buddy? Can I get you something? Here. Sit. You’re shaking.” 

“I’m good,” Ulfie promised. "Might be in need of an infusion though. Sooner rather than later." 

“Sit. Don’t be a tough guy. I know it hurts,” Steve said. He rolled his chair under Ulfie’s butt, pushed him down into the seat. 

“Poor bastard,” Petrus tutted, patting Ulfie on top of the head. 

“Don’t nursemaid me. I took a cannon blast to the sternum at Gotland. I can handle myself.”

“Cannon blast? That was only a three pounder,” Petrus added in, scrunching Ulfie’s shoulders from behind. “You sit here. Catch your breath. You can keep Dotterwich company. Scotch and I will go find Miss Eleanor.” 

Danny snatched the envelope from Steve, as McGarrett examined the long, parallel scratches around the window frame. 

“Shape shifter?” Steve asked Dotterwich. 

“Werewolf,” Dotterwich replied. 

“Those are real too?” Danny gulped. 

“Yes. Quite real. Did you not detect her beastly scent when she first came in?” Dotterwich asked Steve. 

“Too much jasmine and rose water,” he lied. 

“Do not dissemble with false modesty. You would not have gone for your weapon if you weren’t suspicious of her,” Dotterwich observed, staring Steve closely in the face. “I must say. You handled yourself well. All you need is a few years of training. I could make a damned fine Enforcer out of you.” 

“Except for the fact I’m a miserable mortal?” 

“Oh, that’s remedied easily enough,” she purred. 

“Inquisitor, was that a compliment? What changed your mind about me in the last five minutes?” Steve wondered. 

“Your first instinct was to save your friend’s life, not your own. Most commendable. I haven't changed my mind completely. I hold steadfast to the opinion you're a miserable wretch. But you have potential.”

Danny held the envelope up to his nose, drawing in the fragrance which surrounded it. 

“Do be careful, Inquisitor Williams. Owing to the fact that Miss Watson is known to practice unlicensed witchery, you would do well to consider that a suspicious package warranting careful deconstruction by highly-trained professionals," Dotterwich cautioned. 

“Oh good God,” Steve grumbled, snatching the envelope and popping it open on his desktop. 

“Or not,” Dotterwich added. 

“ ‘Dearest Steven, do please join me for my birthday celebration, tonight at midnight at the home of Mademoiselle Mirelle Beauchamp, 3033 Diamond Head Road….’ ” McGarrett read aloud. 

“Lovely handwriting,” Ulfie commented, letting Chin lace his wounded left arm to his chest and attach a make-shift sling around his neck and shoulder. “Most kind. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

“ ‘Appropriate dress optional’? What does that mean?” Danny wondered. 

“It’s considered good manners to dress for the era of your host or hostess,” Steve replied. “Which for Nellie would be late 1770’s. She’ll have to take me in my tux, I’m afraid.” 

Dotterwich warned, “I hope you aren’t considering accepting this offer, Commander McGarrett.” 

“Of course I am. It would be unforgivably rude to refuse.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“This is a gift,” Steve replied, shaking the envelope at Dotterwich. 

“How, pray tell?” 

“We know when and where Eleanor will be. We know what she’ll be doing. We know she’s going to be in a very pleasant mood, because the day is all about her. We accept her invitation. We arrive at her door on time. We approach her with reason and caution. We talk her into surrendering. The End,” Steve suggested. 

“You are the crown jewel of idiots,” Dotterwich sighed. 

“Ulfie, you return to the Mistress, and let her know our plans.” 

“As you wish, Scotch.” 

"Petrus, I'm relying on you to see through Nellie's witchery." 

"I'll do my best," Petrus promised. 

"What? You think he's an expert on witchcraft because his mother is in league with the Devil?" Dotterwich mocked. 

"She exaggerates. Mother's position is largely ceremonial," Petrus defended when Danny and Chin and Kono stared at him in terror. 

“That will be your master plan?” Dotterwich frowned. “You mean to put on your best suit, walk up to the door, and ring the bell?” 

“You have a better idea?” Steve growled. 

“I call for reinforcements, amass the appropriate numbers necessary to take down this dangerous felon, rush the residence, and apprehend her and her cohorts before anyone else gets hurt.” 

"I like her plan better, Steve," Danny interjected. 

“You mean to crash the birthday bash of a sixteen-year-old with guns a-blazin’?” Steve scolded. “Where are your manners? Can you get your hands on a gown in the next hour?” 

“McGarrett, I am inches from obliterating you myself, and happily serving a life sentence in the Magna Domus, chains and all.”

“I bet you’d look smashing in scarlet,” Steve teased. 

"I will kill you if you test me," Dotterwich hissed.


	13. The Glass Slipper

“The invitation has your name, sir, and of course, you may enter, but I must ask the rest of these people to remain where they are until I clear their presence with the Lady of the Hour.” 

Petrus and Dotterwich growled in unison and in harmony, hers slightly higher than his. Danny muttered. Steve remained patient. 

“They’re with me.”

“Be that as it may, sir…..” 

From inside the milling crowd of well-dressed and costumed people, there came a high-pitched shriek of excitement. Petrus went for his blunderbuss, Dotterwich for her cutlass. The long-nosed, skeletal man barring the team’s entrance dodged aside just in time as an incorporeal comet exploded through the portal and enveloped McGarrett.

A billowing preponderance of pink and white satin attached itself to Steve like a vice. There were milk-white arms laced around his neck, ringlets of honey-blonde hair splashing against his chest and his shoulder, and sea-blue eyes which glittered with wonder and delight. The tiny young woman had literally climbed the Navy SEAL like a tree, and had attached herself around his upper half.

“Steven! Dearest Steven! You’re here! You came! I was not entirely certain you would accept. I know you must have been tentative. How I’ve missed you! Look at you! No longer a lithe boy, are you? You’re so beastly, and furry, and solid. You’re…. Let me embrace you again!” 

“Eleanor,” Steve murmured, giving her a gentle hug. He dotted a fatherly kiss on her right cheek, then on her left cheek, then on her forehead as he put her delicately back down on the ground. Her slippers clicked loudly as they touched the pavement of the ornate stoop. She hadn’t liked being set down, but she kept her smile in place. She immodestly lifted the hem of her sweeping, pink gown, and showed off her shoes. 

“Glass slippers. I thought it appropriate. We will have ourselves a bit of fun this evening. I will be the princess, and you will be my prince. I will lose my shoe, and disappear at the stroke of midnight. We shall have a merry chase, for old time’s sake.” 

“Eleanor, this is very serious. Besides that, it’s after midnight.” 

“Let me pretend, if only for a moment or two,” she sighed. 

“I’m not here to cater to your romantic fantasies,” Steve chided gently. 

“Too late on that account. You are simply delicious,” the small woman tittered, a frown fighting with her smile as she ran her fingertips up the lapels of McGarrett’s black on black tuxedo, her fingers toying with the scarlet tie at his throat. “Can you look me in the eyes and swear you haven’t missed me, not even the tiniest bit?” 

Dotterwich put her cutlass between Eleanor and Steve, flat side facing, blocking the girl’s glittering eyes. 

“Eleanor, if you try to enthrall me, I will spank you,” Steve warned. 

“Don’t be such a fuddy-duddy. Can we not pretend, even for a moment? It is my birthday, you know.” Nellie went into pout mode. 

Steve felt a tug at his jacket sleeve. Danny was attempting to get his attention. Nellie was toying with a segment of her dress at hip height. Her fingers moved towards the seam. Seeing that her movements had been spotted though, Nellie pulled her hand away from the concealed pouch. 

“You have to be nice to me on my birthday at least,” Nellie continued. 

“Miss Eleanor, your sister wishes desperately for you to return home and make amends,” Petrus intoned. Nellie’s eyes rose from Steve’s face to trace over Rolfsson. A glint like fire went round the rims of her sea blue eyes. 

“It always comes back to Lucy, doesn’t it? Lucy. Lucy. My dear, sweet sister whom everyone adores. Dear, sweet, perfect overbearing bitch of a sister, and you, her eager lap dog, Petrus Rolfsson.” 

Nellie spat the words out, her beautiful face twisting with distaste. 

“Mind your tongue,” Petrus warned. “Your sister has been far too indulgent with you, where others would have had you hauled away in iron chains long before this. But what you have done, it is beyond the pale. It was very nearly homicide. You must answer for what you’ve done.” 

“Steven, how disappointing. You’re here to apprehend me, aren’t you? You’ve brought Lucy’s black dog, and the long arm of the law, and this little fellow. Charmed, I’m sure. Have we met, sir?” 

Nellie turned her attention from Petrus and Inquisitor Dotterwich to Danny, who had his arms crossed over his chest. Steve immediately recognized Danny’s imperious expression: Daddy Mode. This mode could take many forms – kind and tender; serious and somber; protective and loving; furious but even-tempered. But then there was the current expression. Someone was in danger of being turned over a knee and subjected to all manner of corporeal punishment if they didn’t watch their step. 

“Miss Watson, you must surrender yourself, and answer for your crimes,” Inquisitor Dotterwich interjected, showing her badge, and extending a hand palm up towards Eleanor. 

“You cannot mean to arrest me on my birthday. How very unfair. And most unkind,” Eleanor whined. Through the childish whining, there was a sinister undertone, a sense that Nellie was playing this out for her own amusement. The crowd that was gathering behind her laughed and whispered among itself, and she was playing for them as well. Danny’s radar was pinging on all points. 

“Miss Watson, please do come along quietly. I promise you will be well treated, and you will receive a fair hearing. Be a good girl,” Ingrid advised sternly. 

“May we not at least have cake first?” Eleanor pleaded. 

“Miss Watson, please,” Dotterwich pleaded. 

“Have we met, sir? You do look familiar.” Nellie returned her twinkling, playful gaze to Danny. He was in no mood. 

“Don’t play innocent. I’ve seen your sketches,” Danny retorted. 

“Were they not a pleasing surprise?” she tested. 

“No, they weren’t,” Danny assured her grimly. 

“I’m Eleanor Philomena Watson. You must be Daniel. Steven’s special and particular friend.” 

She laughed melodically before she could control herself. She swallowed her giggles, and extended a hand to him, palm down, back up, wrist raised, fingers hanging slightly downward. 

“A true gentleman would kiss my hand upon making my acquaintance for the first time,” Nellie scolded most delicately. 

Danny raised a brow, produced his handcuffs, and clicked them over her tiny wrist.

“Eleanor Watson, you’re under arrest.” 

Eleanor cackled with delight. She threw back her head, splashing laughter like a fountain. Then she dissipated into a fine mist which wrapped all the way around Steve’s body for a tight squeeze. McGarrett caught his breath with a shudder of alarm and pleasure. The pink comet darted off in a flurry of glitter through the crowd of people. 

“That went well,” Steve sighed impatiently as Danny twirled his empty handcuffs around by one silver circle. He patted his left thigh and growled. “She took my pistolé.” 

“For future reference, Inquisitor Williams, you have to clap her in irons to keep her from employing evasive maneuvers such as that,” Dotterwich explained as she passed between Steve and Danny, showing her badge to the doorman. 

“Madam Inquisitor,” the doorman bowed. 

“I was clapping her in irons,” Danny defended. 

“Real iron, not a synthetic metal alloy,” Petrus added. He patted Steve’s back, and then followed Dotterwich into the house. All he had to do was glare down his nose at the doorman, and he was allowed to pass. 

“You mean like real shackles?” Danny asked Steve. 

“Yes. Real shackles. Iron neutralizes their ability to dissipate or enthrall.” 

“You couldn’t have told me this earlier in the evening?” Danny complained loudly. 

“I’m sorry, sir, but your invitation does not specify….” The doorman moved to stop Danny from entering with Steve. McGarrett linked his arm with Danny’s arm, and stepped across the threshold. 

“My husband is coming with me. Thank you. That will be all.” 

Danny’s eyes must have betrayed the fluttering that went through his veins and settled in his stomach, hearing the word fall from Steve’s lips. He exchanged a shocked look with the doorman, and hurried to keep up with Steve’s long legs. 

“We aren’t married,” Danny whispered. 

Steve smiled and dotted a gentle kiss on Danny’s mouth. 

“We should be.” 

“What?” Danny faltered. 

“You. Me. Married. We should be. We make a great team.” 

“Steve, is this your half-ass way of proposing to me?”

“I…um…not if you don’t….” Steve stammered bashfully. “We make a great team,” he repeated, avoiding the question. 

“You view this as a strategically-advantageous arrangement, sir, is that what you’re saying?” Danny teased, hand riding up Steve’s back, along his side, caressing as it went. 

“I’d like to think it’s a love match, and that it’s also strategically advantageous,” Steve teased. “We’re like peanut butter and jelly. Ham and pineapple.” 

Danny gouged Steve directly in his most ticklish spot in his ribs. 

“Fuck you. Ham and pineapple? More like napalm and foliage. Nellie is watching us,” Danny warned. 

“That’s the idea.” 

“She reassembled herself at the head table.” 

“Does she look angry?” Steve wondered, bending down to kiss Danny’s mouth. 

“Perfectly furious,” Danny confirmed. 

“Good.” 

“What are you up to?” 

“Reinforcing that I belong with you. To you. Entirely.” 

“I’m not sure I like you using me this way.” 

“In what way would prefer that I use you?” Steve inquired with a charming smirk, nibbling Danny’s neck. 

Danny laughed out, turning red. “Oh, I think you know too well how I would prefer to use you.” 

“What? Here? Perfectly shameless,” Steve pretended shock, his eyes glittering playfully. He nibbled Danny’s ear, down his neck, to his shoulder. Every porcelain dish within five feet radius of Eleanor shattered into a thousand pieces as she growled deep in her throat. 

“Steve?” Danny warned again. “She’s gone from furious to hostile.” 

“Good to know. So at the moment, it’s Nellie 1, Team 0, thanks to your rash and impetuous nature. Though I do have to admit, I was secretly very proud of you for what you did,” Steve whispered. He touched his ear, and studied the lay of the vast open area of the lower floor of the house. 

“Look at this place. It’s like she’s read one too many bad romance novels. It’s straight out of Cinderella.” 

“ ‘Some balls are held for charity, and some for fancy dress’,” Steve chuckled softly. Danny faltered, a grin breaking over his face. ***

“Thanks a lot. Now I’ve got Angus Young in my head.”

“My pleasure,” Steve smirked. “Actually sung by Brian Johnson.” 

"Was not," Danny gasped. 

"Was so...." Steve whined back. 

“Do you think this place really belongs to Mirelle Beauchamp?” Danny asked. 

“I doubt there ever was a Mirelle Beauchamp. It’s probably an alias that Nellie uses.” 

“So why flop at that disgusting rental house if Nellie owns this place?” 

“She needed a safe place to store Marcus where no one would be suspicious.”

“Do you think this house is her primary residence then?”

“This isn’t a house. It’s a trap.” 

“What?” Danny gulped. 

“Steven?! Steven?! Come hither, darling!” Nellie called out. She muttered more softly to the friends close at hand, who laughed or smiled among themselves. She was playing for her audience. 

“She is livid. Is that what you were going for?” Danny snickered darkly. 

“Yes.” 

“Steven?! Come here. Bring your little friend. We’ll make room for him too!” 

“In our deepest, darkest dungeon,” Steve whispered to Danny, drawing him by the arm towards the table. “Be on your guard.” 

“Ever so kind of you to warn me.” 

“Trust no one. Be cautious of me too.” 

“Understood. Do you think Chin and Kono are in place?” 

“We need a safe word. I hope they’re in place. I can’t see them though.” 

“The usual word? That’s the idea, big goof. You're not supposed to see them.” 

“Oh, yes. Most appropriate. Not a goof.”

“Understood. Biggest goof ever.” 

They arrived at the head table, where Steve bowed slightly. He spotted Nellie’s glass slippers under the table, and retrieved them. Danny stood close to Steve’s side and went on full alert when Nellie’s closest friends watched him with blood lust showing in their eyes. 

“How do you and Ulfie manage to travel as mist, and keep your clothes and shoes?” Steve asked, holding onto the shoes. Nellie was surrounded on all sides by people closer to her own age or a little older. Young men in military dress. Young women in gowns. Steve wasn’t sure if they were all vampires, but he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise up when they shined their eyes across he and Danny. Danny didn’t like the way they were being watched. Not one bit. 

Nellie danced her way around to the front of the table, and stood in front of Steve again. 

“Shall we trade?” she asked, producing his Queen Anne pistolé from out of thin air. 

“It’s not nice to disarm someone without permission,” Steve tutted. Nellie chuckled as she placed the pistolé into his grip, and swiped the shoes away from him. She dropped the slippers back on the floor, and stuffed her small feet into them. Danny noted she wore rings on a couple of her toes, and that her nails were painted. Just like the feet that had been in her sketch of Steve’s back porch and lanai, and him in the distance in the water. She had been standing, watching Steve swim, probably while Danny was asleep upstairs in Steve’s bed. 

“I’m so thrilled that you’re here, Steven. Have I mentioned?” 

“You have. That’s very sweet of you,” Steve said, holding out one hand. 

“What, dear?” 

“Give it all back, Nellie. You removed the wick, and the round which was in the barrel, Steve accused. 

“Well of course I did! Think I want you shooting me with a silver bullet? Naughty boy.” 

“The weapon is for protection but not against you.” 

“I don’t blame you for wanting to apprehend me. I know I’ve behaved appalling towards Lucy. I will make amends. I promise I will,” Nellie pleaded, a hint of seriousness flittering through her face. “She and I – we have a special relationship. No one loves me more than my sister, and no one loves her more than I do, and yet, when it comes to hate, no one may match my enthusiasm there either. The sword cuts both ways. I suppose that’s what I’m attempting to say.” 

“I do understand,” Steve soothed. He tucked the emptied pistolé into his waistband. Before he had had it under his clothes in a concealed holster, but clearly when Nellie had swirled around him, she had detected the weapon along his thigh. Which gave one some idea of the dual purpose of her greeting. She had wanted to feel him up, and search him for weapons. The greeting hadn't been all about youthful enthusiasm and excitement at seeing him. 

“Lucy and I have always had a difficult relationship. I will answer for what I’ve done. I swear I will. But not tonight. I beg of you. Grant me one night’s parole, and come the morrow, I will hand myself over to Inquisitor Dotterwich, and the law may drag me away. Please, darling. Please?” 

“I would really rather we not waste tonight,” Steve murmured. 

“Oh!” Nellie exclaimed, seizing his hand as her eyes lit up. Steve frowned sourly at her misinterpretation of his words. 

“Nellie, do not play. You are very well aware that your sister is in perilous condition.” 

“I…I know… You must think me a brute for what I’ve done. I readily admit how horrible I am. But I was so angry with Lucy. So very angry,” Eleanor replied, small fists clenching. “I should like your forgiveness, Steven, most of all.” 

“If you are in need of forgiveness, then start with Lucy,” Steve scolded softly. “Apologize to her. In person.” 

“But I cannot do that.” 

“Why not? If you’re sorry, you can apologize.” 

“I cannot face Lucy. Not after what I’ve done,” Nellie trembled, setting a hand on Steve’s arm again. 

“You can apologize, and you will do so in person. You must. Her life may depend on you.” 

“Ducky told me that you had secured the services of a witch to render aid to Lucy, to heal her. Perfectly scandalous! Do you think it will work?” 

“Lord Somerduck told you about Dr. Fran?” Steve asked, eyes narrowing. 

“Don’t be so cross. Ducky was my friend before he was Lucy’s lover. Sorry. Is that bad form? I shouldn’t speak so directly on her personal habits. Ducky and I are friends, though not in the same way that Lucy and Ducky are friends,” Nellie chuckled through false pretense of being shocked at her sister’s behavior. “Perfect timing! Here he is now.” 

“Commander McGarrett? I see you were foolish enough to accept the invitation that Constance brought to you.”

“About that, Steven -- you and your cohorts should be ashamed. Poor Constance is recovering from the unfriendly reception you offered her,” Nellie scolded. “My dear, faithful Constance! How cruel you were to her!” 

“I’m sorry but she did take us by surprise,” Steve replied. 

“There was no need to fire weapons at her.” 

“I disagree entirely,” Steve frowned. 

McGarrett turned his attention away from Nellie and towards the familiar voice to his left. Danny wasn't any happier to see Somerduck than Steve was. 

“Richard,” Steve said simply. 

“You should address me as Lord Somerduck. We are not familiars.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind, Richard.” 

“Someone ought to teach you a few manners, sir.” 

“Ducky, do be kind, or Steven might teach you manners instead,” Nellie teased. “Remember what he did to poor Constance, and she is but a defenseless child.”

“Why is he here?” Steve asked. 

“I sent an invitation to Lucy and Addie, thinking Addie might come. Dreading the possibility, to be honest. Gratefully, she did decline. Poor dear has never been my greatest ally." 

"She likes you just fine when you're not trying to kill Lucy." 

"Come now. There’s no need to fib for politeness’s sake. I don’t like Addie. Addie doesn’t like me. We have never liked each other. Lucy, dear Lucy, she was in no condition to attend. Lucy sent Ducky instead of Addie. It is all right if I call you Ducky, is it not, dearest?” 

“But of course, Nellie,” Somerduck bowed to her. 

“I see,” Steve intoned darkly. “Lucy sent you?” he asked skeptically. Somerduck flushed, avoided Steve’s gaze, and did not answer him. Which was tantamount to admitting he was lying, Danny decided. 

“Nellie, I brought your favorite wine, and a present for you, and you haven’t opened either,” Somerduck pouted. “Lucy’s instructions were that I should endeavor to make your celebration a memorable one.” 

There was something about the way he said the words that sent a shiver down Steve’s back. Danny was equally chilled. It didn’t help at all that Somerduck was caressing his sword sheath absently as he said the words either. Nellie turned around to the table to pick up the box that Somerduck had brought her. Richard’s hand went straight to the pommel of his sword. Steve stepped in front of the impetuous boy, and put a hand on that hand. 

“It was a very brotherly thing to do, to deliver Lucy’s presents to Nellie,” Steve commended Richard, giving the boy a stern and severe smile. 

“My idea, actually,” Somerduck growled. 

“Clever boy,” Danny interjected, moving to Somerduck’s other side. Nellie was turning around again, box in hand, eyes glittering happily. Her eyes flittered merrily over Steve, Richard, and Danny together. 

“Steven, darling. Let him loose. Give him some room, Daniel, in case he decides to be a rash boy. But, Ducky, you wouldn’t dare hurt me, would you? You know too well that if you pull that sword free, I will impale you on it myself. Steven, do not block his hand. Let him try,” Nellie purred sweetly. 

Somerduck blanched and began to babble nonsense. "No idea what you're insinuating. Surely." 

“I will drench this room in duck sauce if you test me,” Nellie continued. 

Steve loosened his grip on Richard’s arm. 

“Ducky, you don’t think I have every idea that you came to undo me, for the sake of your pride, and Lucy’s ego?” Nellie cooed. “You telegraphed your intentions from the moment you walked in the room, you and your entourage. By the by, where are your boys? I haven’t seen them in forever. It’s like they walked in, and vanished. Simply vanished. Very creepy. Where do you suppose they’ve gone off to?” 

Somerduck cast worried eyes around. Nellie cackled coyly. 

“Don’t worry. They’re fine. I sent them off, that’s all. One by one. Different locations. While you weren’t looking. They’ll find their way back to you soon enough. Unlike you, I have learned to be more subtle when it comes to homicidal tendencies. Not that I don’t find your attempts at subterfuge adorable and charming.”

“I’m sure you’ve misunderstood me entirely, Nellie. I came to bring you Lucy’s presents. Nothing more.” 

“You have to decide between us, Ducky, once and for all. You want to help me, but you remain slavishly devoted to Lucy. You hid me from her, but you begged Lucy for permission to kill me, did you not? Begged her, Ducky. And what did she say?” 

“She forbade me from harming you, not that I ever would harm you, Nellie. I love you like a sister." 

"I would rather you didn't if it's all the same," Nellie whispered ruefully. "Ducky, you've been untrue, and treacherous to boot. You lied to me, and you lied to Lucy. You swore you would protect me from her temper. You told her you couldn’t find me, when you’ve known where I’ve been the whole time.” 

“I lied to Lucy out of affection for you. Hoping if you gave her time, her temper would calm. And I was correct to do so. Giving her time did make Lucy more calm.” 

“But then my sister had to go and involve Steven? That made you angry. Threw off all your plans?” Nellie teased. “You had to stop playing her and me off each other, and think of your own reputation. You weren’t going to be shown up by a mortal, were you?” 

“The Mistress should never have involved Commander McGarrett in the matter,” Somerduck muttered. 

“Why take it out on me, if you’re mad at Lucy? Here you are, and here this is,” Nellie said, handing him back the small box. Somerduck refused to accept the box. Nellie kept it in her own grasp, holding it by one dangling black ribbon, like a rat by the tail. 

“ ‘Tis a gift from Lucy.” 

“I’m surprised at you, Ducky. Murder is a grievous sin.” 

“Murder? Surely, you misunderstand. I know not what is in the box,” Somerduck stammered. Nellie taunted him by dangling the box nearer and nearer. Steve reached out, and took the box away from Nellie. 

“Lies, Ducky. All of it. If you know not what is in the box, why would you refuse to put your hand on it?” Nellie hissed, her blue eyes narrowing. “Do give me the gift, Steven.” 

“I will destroy it for you. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt," Steve offered. 

“Protective as always. Your chivalry does bolster my poor heart,” Nellie smiled. “How sweet of you.” 

“Nellie, stop this playing. Your sister needs your help. We're wasting precious time,” Steve said, hoping to distract her. 

“She needs my help so much that she would send Ducky to do me in?”

"Do you in? Nellie?!" Somerduck blurted. 

“Lucy didn’t send him. You know that to be true.” 

“Yet here he is, with murder in his heart.” 

"I do not wish to kill you," Somerduck promised. 

"Deceit is a bigger sin than murder, some would say, Ducky," Nellie warned him, eyes like slits. 

“Nellie. Let him be," Danny warned. 

"Let him be," Steve echoed. 

“You both surprise me,” Nellie rocked back on her heels, toying with a diamond and sapphire ring, likely the one she had stolen from Lucy. 

“I do not wish to see anyone come to harm. I will open the box, in a safe location,” Steve said. 

“No. Open it here,” Nellie commanded. 

“As you wish.” 

Steve whipped smartly downward on the black, dangling ribbon, like snapping a yo-yo towards the floor. The box hit the ground with a bang. Wooden pieces flew everywhere. Nellie gasped excitedly and dropped to her knees. Somerduck recoiled several steps. Danny flattened Steve to the ground. Several of Nellie's friends surged forward, fearing she had been hurt. Nellie howled with excitement, running her hands over the object which glittered along the ground. 

“Ducky! You shouldn’t have! How beautiful!” 

Steve and Danny were quickly back on their feet, ready for anything. Nellie stood up again, dangling not a ribbon or a box, but a diamond-studded, golden, open metalwork necklace which caught light from every corner of the room. It glittered like fire and danger, a metallic floral design. She could not have been happier. 

“Ducky, put it on. At once,” Nellie cooed, holding it to him. He smiled nervously, and looked to Steve for help. He must have been desperate indeed! But Somerduck knew he was in over his head. Danny held Steve back from what he sensed was a bad situation only about to get much worse. 

“Lift your hair, and I will be happy to oblige,” Somerduck urged, holding the delicate necklace by both ends like it might bite him. 

Nellie picked up her hair with one hand, and kicked off her shoes once more. 

“These things are killing my feet,” she tittered, reaching down to pick one up. 

“Miss Eleanor?” 

“Petrus?” Nellie trembled, dropping her hair and skittering a step or two away.

Rolfsson had crept up behind her so silently that no one had heard or noticed him. Petrus took the shoes, one out of Nellie’s hands and one from the floor. He stuffed them into his voluminous cloak. 

“Let Somerduck fit the necklace for you, and stop trying to kill him,” Petrus murmured. 

“Why have you taken my shoes? Am I to walk barefooted the rest of the night?” Nellie chuckled. 

“Miss Eleanor, I will allow you one hour. One dance. One piece of cake. One present. Then you will surrender yourself to the Inquisitor. Am I making myself understood?” Petrus asked, using his frame to menace the small woman in a manner that made Danny very uncomfortable. Nellie didn’t like it one bit either. All the play drained out of her face. She was plainly terrified of him. 

“Yes, Petrus. Of course. Thank you.”

“For what do you thank me?” 

“Thank you for protecting me, and keeping me from making matters even worse.” 

“I protect you at the behest of your sister. Let Richard give you your present.” 

“But that isn’t the present that I want,” Nellie protested, eyes wandering covetously over Steve’s person. 

“Miss Eleanor,” Petrus frowned. 

“Don’t you understand? Any of you? How adorable you lot are. Coming here en masse, under the delusion you’re going to convince me to surrender myself. Not a single one of you understands that this has been my plan all along,” Nellie mocked. 

“Miss Eleanor,” Petrus warned again. He glanced up for a second around the room, trying to figure out where Inquisitor Dotterwich had vanished to among the crowds. 

“This is really very kind of you, Ducky,” Nellie said, holding up the necklace to admire it. “Quite lovely. Very kind. But I won’t be putting it on. No. While this is extremely dainty metalwork, and the diamonds are dazzling to be sure, I know the feel of iron when I have it in my hands. You meant to collar me in iron, and keep me captive, did you?” 

Nellie whipped around in a circle. Somerduck dodged out of reach with a squeal of terror. The young girl tangled the necklace around Petrus’s wrist. The large man froze with surprise, jerking his arm back from her a second too late. The damage was already done. The second after the metal was tangled around his wrist, Nellie raised her other hand and spat cryptic words at him. Petrus’s hand went under his cloak, but too late. A flash and a scream lit the space between Petrus and Nellie. Petrus went up in a ball of red sparks and wispy lights. Somerduck shouted and drew his sword. 

“PETRUS!?" Steve shouted, arms sinking through the empty space, sparks catching on his sleeves. 

"Ducky? Do you want to play?" 

"Eleanor!? What did you do to Petrus?” Steve demanded. 

Nellie ignored Steve. She bared her fangs. Her delicate and dainty curls flared out like angry snakes all around her head. Somerduck steeled himself for the first blow when the tiny creature leapt at him. 

People were screaming, fleeing in all directions. It was chaos and panic, and no place for delicate humans to be. Steve and Danny were jostled and pushed from all sides. Danny was trying to pull Steve back, and Steve kept insisting on fighting his way towards Somerduck and Eleanor. Quickly their main concern became battling back the members of the crowd who were swarming around them. The men stood back to back, encircled by dripping fangs and glowing eyes. Leering smiles. This was no place for delicate, delicious mortals, to be sure! Somerduck lashed at Eleanor with his sword as she leapt here and there, misting and vanishing and coalescing behind him to give him a nasty slash with her nails. Dotterwich advanced into the melee with her cutlass at the ready. Steve was digging into his pocket for the flask of scotch and a lighter. Danny was right behind him, flask in hand, ready to light it up and throw it on the floor. And then Steve took a swig from his flash which puffed out his cheeks like a greedy chipmunk. 

"What the....AAAAAAHHH!" Danny cried out when Steve flicked a lighter, and spat flames around them in a wicked circle. The creatures fled to a distance. There was a trickle of scotch trailing down Steve's lips to his chin. He was flashing every last tooth he owned. 

“Stand down!” Dotterwich bellowed the order. The creatures around Danny and Steve scampered away, but not far enough. Somerduck dropped his weapon and fell back as ordered. Nellie took no heed – she slashed Somerduck along the arm, delighted when he screamed in pain. The tiny creature flew next at the Inquisitor, mouth full of fangs and pointed teeth, hair alight with an unearthly fire. 

“Nellie!?” Steve warned, putting the silver flask between Nellie and Dotterwich. The Inquisitor’s eyes were swirling with fantastic colors. Her cutlass dropped from her grip. She stood in place, hardly breathing, babbling syllables softly. 

“Amo, amas, amat….” 

A roar of sound like flames exploded right next to Dotterwich and Steve, nearly colliding with Danny. Williams fell back from the towering inferno, scrambling to grab the nearest bucket of ice and water from the table. Whoever had appeared was smoldering, throwing off sparks. Nellie screamed out as the flaming figure grabbed her arm and held on tight. 

Steve tore the cloak off Dotterwich’s shoulders and tackled the figure, enveloping him with the flowing material. As a consequence, Steve was drenched by the bucket of ice and water that Danny threw. 

From the second story, Chin and Kono were pushing and shoving through the crowd, leaping over and around furniture, trying to get their weapons out and ready. 

Dotterwich was shaking the cobwebs out of her brain as Nellie held her burned arm and wailed. 

“You bastard! That hurts!” she cried. 

“Water, water, water,” Steve ordered. Danny finished stuffing the two flasks back into his pants before he spun around to the table. He grabbed the next bucket of ice and water, setting aside two bottles of wine. 

“Diluvium!” Dotterwich shouted. 

It was like someone had opened a flood gate in the ceiling. Water gushed, arching, splashing, overflowing. Nellie howled like an angry cat as her dress caved in on her body like melted cotton candy. The burning man under the cloak was out finally. Petrus pushed Steve off, snarling with fury, advancing on the small wet woman in pink. 

“Petrus? No, no, no, no, no,” Steve pleaded, getting between the large angry burned bundle of black clothes, limbs, and singed hair. Petrus's hair regenerated in seconds, flashing out to all directions. His skin was healing before their eyes, blackened flesh becoming whole again, like peeling the cover of a roasted marshmallow to find the white underneath. Except there was an angry red burn around his left wrist, where the delicate metalwork had melted into his skin. 

Nellie wailed at the top of her lungs, hugging herself to Steve’s back. 

“Steven, don’t let him hurt me!” she pleaded. 

“Petrus? Leave her to me, brother. Leave her be.”

“Stand down, Rolfsson,” Dotterwich ordered. 

Petrus threw off the remains of his damaged cloak, retrieving his blunderbuss, wick already aflame. He pointed the red-hot weapon at Nellie’s face and snarled in hatred, fangs bared and dripping greenish venom. 

“Petrus, don’t do this,” Steve begged. Rolfsson clocked Steve in the face with the grip of the blunderbuss, and aimed again for Nellie. With both arms around Steve, Nellie went up like a roman candle of pink and white. Steve screamed out in pain. His face twisted with surprise. He was disintegrating along with Nellie, a shower of blue and white. The pink mist enveloped the blue mist, and rocketed away into the chaos around them.

“No….. no…. no….” Danny couldn't believe his eyes. He faltered against the table for support, and tipped it sideways. He slid down to the ground, dragging the table cloth, candle holder, and bottles of wine with him. 

“Great Mother,” Dotterwich whispered in disbelief. 

Petrus howled up into the sky in his frustration and anger, continuing to heal even as his burned clothing fell away from his pink and pale skin. The only article left untouched was the crucifix hanging around his neck. 

“STEVE!!” Danny cried out. He took Petrus by the throat. “Where did she take him? Where has she gone?” Danny snarled, spittle flying.

Petrus was seething, seeing nothing but red. He threw Danny off, and fired his blunderbuss noisily and indiscriminately into the air, howling in fury.

“Reel it in, Rolfsson,” Dotterwich commanded. “I need your help.” 

“Where would she take him!?” Danny demanded, getting in Petrus’s face again. 

“Stay calm, Inquisitor Williams. Miss Watson can only go so far, carrying both herself and Steven,” Dotterwich interjected, pulling a cell phone out of her pocket and dialing. 

Danny shook himself, never so glad as when Chin and Kono reached his side. 

“This is Inquisitor Dotterwich. I’ve got a Level Nine Emergency. I repeat, a Level Nine. I’m going to need reinforcements, on my position, now.” 

“Reinforcements,” Danny agreed, running his hands through his hair as he paced back and forth. Every fiber of his body was screaming that Steve was in mortal danger, and they had to act in seconds, or it might be too late. 

Dotterwich pulled Somerduck aloft by one arm, shaking the boy. 

“Think, Ducky. Where would Miss Watson take Commander McGarrett?" 

"I...I don't...." 

"I will drink your hot blood with glee if you don't render aid at once," Dotterwich threatened, jamming her cutlass against Somerduck's throat. 

“If you kill him, he can’t tell us,” Danny intervened against his own better judgement. 

“We need to regroup, and we need to know where Miss Watson would go,” Dotterwich called out. 

Chin held up his cell phone. He was calm because the phone was blinking. 

"You put a tracker on Steve?" Danny almost sobbed. 

"What witchery is that?" Petrus mocked. 

"GPS, man. Get with the program," Chin replied. "We've got a location. We can stand around here bitching and whining, or we can go rescue Steve."

"Let's go get him, brah," Kono insisted. 

"Impossible," Dotterwich muttered. "It must be a mistake. Miss Watson dissipated his entire being. Where could you have hidden that tracker that she would not have found it?" 

"Better not to ask," Kono advised. 

"He'll be fine unless she takes off his clothes," Chin replied. 

"Given their documented history, that may be the first place she starts," Dotterwich fretted.

"We're wasting time. Let's go!" Danny hollered out, suppressing a horrible shudder. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***The song Steve quotes is Big Balls by AC/DC.


	14. Love Bites

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for non-con invasion of personal space (Nellie gropes Steve).

Steve awoke in a rush, sensing a flickering of white and pink near to him as his own skin. Time to assess the situation. He switched immediately into SEAL mode. He was on a ship. He recognized the familiar sensation, the rocking of the waves under the vessel. 

He was on a bed. Naked. Draped in icy silk sheets. The tracker that Chin had talked him into was missing, which meant Nellie had gotten very personal indeed while removing his clothes. Vulnerable and alone – his least favorite position. 

He was very cold, couldn’t stop the shudder that passed through his limbs. He wiggled one hand, and heavy chains rattled. Was he wearing shackles? He would have to open his eyes to assess the situation any further, not something he was willing to do at this point. 

A small hand prowled his gooseflesh-prickled skin. Lips touched his forehead, his nose, his mouth, his chin. 

This was not good. Steve inhaled the scent of jasmine and rosewater, and felt the tickle of ringlets dragging over his chest. Delicate fingertips teased the sheet away from his chest. A tiny nose went round one nipple, and the flick of a tongue dragged a groan from him. Sharp teeth brought a gasp of pain. 

“There’s no point in playing possum with me, Steven.”

McGarrett kept his eyes closed, and steeled himself against the whisper-soft kisses. 

“Nellie, stop.” 

“Must I?”

“This is not….”

Breath caressed his cheek. Steve turned his head away from the kiss aimed at his moving mouth. 

“Eleanor, stop this at once,” Steve demanded sternly. 

Nellie smiled against the side of his neck, tracing the very tips of her pointed teeth down his jugular vein. 

“ ‘Tis not a wise thing, baring your throat to me like that. Showing me the glorious pump, pump, pump of your heart.”

“Untie me. Unhand me. ELEANOR!” Steve exclaimed when her fingertips traced over his chest and caressed down his abdomen. His hands jerked to stop her from dropping her hand any further, but he couldn’t reach. Probably not a coincidence. Eleanor had fitted him with chains and shackles, attached him to the heavy wooden headboard. He had about two feet of lead, and that was it. 

The young woman met with an unpleasant surprise. Modesty aside (not that he had much) Steve rotated his lower half, snatched her between his powerful thighs, and pinned her down to the bed in short order, one leg slung across her throat. He had an arm twisted painfully around, but he could deal with that short-term. 

Nellie was momentarily surprised, but not taken aback for long. If anything, she was thoroughly amused. She misted free of Steve’s heavy form. Rematerialized, and grabbed Steve’s chin. She yanked his face towards hers. He clenched his eyes tight. 

“Eleanor, I’m warning you.” 

“Are you?” 

The young woman was up against him, uncomfortably close, hands roaming where they had no business going. 

“You are not entirely unmoved by my intentions,” Nellie whispered against his cheek. She tugged, and Steve gasped out, eyes opening in fury and embarrassed shock. It had been a natural reaction, and exactly what Nellie had been hoping for. Their gazes connected. 

Steve’s vision spun. He sank back down on the bed, and Nellie pooled over him like a smothering cloak. Her fangs found their mark in his left shoulder. Steve shuddered violently, making half an attempt to push her away, only managing to tangle his fingers in her hair. 

His world was closing in around him, reduced to the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears. It’s funny, but he wasn’t scared so much as he was really freaking annoyed. His last coherent thought was, ‘No more Mister Nice Guy’.

* * * 

The luxurious house at 3033 Diamond Head Road had been transformed from a swank birthday party to a military marshalling ground, all in the space of about twenty minutes.

Danny could appreciate that they had to mobilize before they could act, but every passing second made his blood pressure rise higher. His nerves jangled like a set of wind chimes in a hurricane. He paced between the solid pillars of Chin and Kono, both of whom hovered near him, offering what comfort they could offer under the circumstances.

The team was on the second floor balcony overlooking the vast room below. People were hurrying back and forth, distributing weaponry from many eras, coordinating their efforts based on the map on the table. Dotterwich was bent over the map, plotting, planning, thinking out loud. When she would pace about, her cloak would swirl and her boots would thump. Chin’s phone continued to beep and blink on the map on the table. Dotterwich was moving charts around, shaking her head in concern. 

“It’s the middle of the bloody ocean. Unless it’s a minute island or sorts? An unmarked atoll? An uncharted jut of land Miss Watson scouted in advance?” 

“She’s on a boat, I’m telling ya’!” 

One of her subordinates was following in her wake, his loud Scottish accent shaking the rafters. He was a wizened man with a wooden leg. His shocking white hair was about an inch long, and stood straight on end. His green eyes pierced like sharpened awls. 

“Miss Watson has a fear of sea-going vessels,” Dotterwich insisted. 

“She appears to have conquered that fear in this case. Give me and my crew our leave, and we’ll be on her wee ass before it’s too late.” 

“Magruder, I can’t risk throwing assets into the wind. We must first be sure of our mark.”

“We have to move out before it’s too late.” 

“I need confirmation before we move.” 

“You’re wasting time, Inquisitor Dotterwich, time that lad doesn’t have to spare.”

“When I want your input, Magruder, I’ll rattle your cage.” 

“Let’s go over what we know,” Chin suggested. “Eleanor Watson kidnapped Steve before?” 

“It’s complicated, but yes,” Danny nodded. He was busy punching buttons on his phone, gargling in anger when he would hit the wrong key. “She bit him, but couldn’t drain him on her own. Took him home to her sister, who wouldn’t help her finish the task.” 

“Nellie wasn’t able to turn him on her own?” Kono asked. 

“No. She isn’t strong enough to turn anyone larger than a child, according to her sister,” Danny supplied, hands twisting together. He dropped his phone, picked it up, and kept punching keys. 

“That means she can’t turn Steve?” Kono asked. 

“How do you turn someone?” Chin asked. 

“You bite them, and drink their blood,” Danny replied. “You have to bite them. A cut won’t work. You have to bite them, and drink their blood.” 

“I thought these creatures had to drink from someone several times before they could turn you into one of them,” Kono puzzled as Petrus pounded up the stairs to join their huddle. 

“I thought they had to drink the human’s blood, and then the human had to drink their blood, before the human would be turned,” Chin commented. “Once, twice, three times? I don’t think that matters. But you have to drink from them.” 

“Hey, Big Lug. How were you turned?” Danny demanded. 

Petrus crossed his arms over his chest, his brow furrowing.

“That is not a question you ask someone you barely know,” Rolfsson muttered. 

“Just answer,” Danny barked.

“I was turned by my lord and master, Lord Amundsen.” 

“How were you turned?” Danny pressed, drawing closer. 

“He drank me to the point of death, and bid me drink from him in kind.”

“Were you and he…..um…?” Danny asked carefully. Petrus looked perturbed with the direction of the question, or perhaps with Danny’s tentativeness. 

“We were lovers, yes.”

“Does that always happen?” Danny worried. 

“Not always, but often.” 

“Do you believe that’s why Nellie took Steve again?” Kono asked. 

“He’s one of the few men to have rejected her, and lived to tell the tale,” Petrus nodded. 

“But she’s not big enough to turn him without help, right?” Kono asked.

“Correct.” 

“Steve is safe for the time being,” Chin sighed with relief. The cousins seized on the ray of hope, and offered it to Danny. 

Petrus shook his head at them, and their hopeful expressions faded. 

“It’s not that simple,” Rolfsson warned. 

“Why not?” Chin demanded. 

“Feeding from someone creates a bond between the biter and the victim, right? That’s why it’s often, but not always, a sexual bond as well?” Danny asked. “That’s why Nellie had to use Marcus to mask herself, because Steve would have been able to sense her presence.”

“Yes, but…. Although she cannot drain Steven, Miss Eleanor could employ a compatriot or two, in order to complete the process. That might be why she was keeping Marcus around. Since the Mistress wouldn't help her, she might have hoped to use Marcus.”

“Nellie wanted Steve for her birthday? But Lucy wouldn’t help her, like she wouldn’t help her last time?” Danny growled. 

“Yes,” Petrus admitted like a dog who expected to be kicked. 

“Nellie learned that Steve had settled here in Hawaii, and she wanted Lucy’s permission to bring Steve home. She wanted her sister’s help turning Steve,” Chin surmised. 

“Yes,” Petrus nodded. 

“Will she seduce him first, or drain him first?” Danny asked. Petrus stumbled. He did not want to answer. Danny urged him on with a roll of the hand, shaking his head. “Be honest with me. You’ve known her for centuries. Which would she do first?” 

“I’ve only known her for ninety years, to be precise. She would enthrall and seduce him first. She is quite infatuated with Scotch.” 

“How long does it take to drain someone to the point of death?” Danny worried. 

“Depends.” 

“On what?” 

“How many of you there are,” Petrus almost whispered. A despairing sound caught in Danny’s thought – a whimper of concern. 

“Why are we standing around here, when we need to be there, THERE!” 

“We are waiting for one last Enforcer to arrive before we can move out,” Petrus said, motioning to the groups milling around below. 

“There’s got to be fifty people down there,” Kono sputtered. “What’s so special about one more Enforcer?” 

“She’s Dotterwich’s Enforcer. More of a security blanket, really,” Petrus murmured confidentially. 

“Back to what you were saying?” Danny urged. “Nellie can bite Steve, and drink from him, but she can’t turn him without help. But if she gets help to bite and drain him, that will turn him into one of you?” 

“No. One must be drained to the point of death, and then one must drink from whoever bit him,” Petrus explained. 

“Steve won’t be turned unless he drinks from someone who bit him?” Danny pressed. 

“You would like to take comfort in the idea that he would refrain?” Petrus questioned glumly. 

Danny’s heart froze at the big man’s serious expression. “Yes,” Danny said in a tiny, fragile voice. 

“The need to feed will burn through any resistance he might hope to muster.” 

“Blood lust?” Danny asked. 

“You have never known a pain such as this. A hunger which gnaws. A thirst which burns. It will cloud all judgement, all good sense, all good manners. It will make you do things you would never imagine you could do,” Petrus warned. 

“I have faith in Steve. He’ll be able to resist,” Danny refused to believe otherwise. 

Petrus could only shake his head in sad despair. 

“He will fall. Everyone does. The question is, if it comes to the worst, are you willing to do what it takes to save him?” Rolfsson asked, turning his eyes from Danny to Chin to Kono. “Are you willing to risk your mortal souls to save him from eternal damnation?” 

“It’s not going to come to that!” Danny exclaimed, his voice unnecessarily loud.


	15. Love Bleeds

So thirsty. 

Steve opened his eyes, blinded by the moonlight washing his bedroom like a flood lamp. What happened to the ship? Where was Nellie? Was he hallucinating? 

He licked his lips. Needed to drink. He dragged himself out of bed, head swimming with the overwhelming noise. He could hear every move of the creatures of the night outside. He could almost feel the rustle of the wind moving through the trees and against the house itself. 

Steve stumbled and weaved into the hallway, and lumbered down the stairs, nursing the Mother of All Headaches. With every step he took, he felt his own heart pumping. He heard every creak of the stairs, every shuffle of his bare feet against the wooden floors and then the tiles in the kitchen. 

He was parched from his mouth down his throat. No time for a glass. He turned on the faucet, and stuck his head under. He drank and drank and drank but could not quench the burning thirst. 

The scent of another person revealed their presence, though Steve could not see anyone. He whirled away from the sink, the taste of metal on his lips. Liquid was spraying down his bare chest. It wasn’t water, but wine. But sticky? He was coughing and gasping because he had inhaled in surprise while drinking. Had someone been holding a goblet to his mouth? Wetness continued to dribble down his bare front. Wine? Sour wine? 

“ ‘s okay, babe. Just me.” 

Steve lurched forward at the familiar voice, the sweet and comforting scent. They sank together to the hard wood floor. Steve wrapped himself around Danny, arms and legs, nose against his neck. He whimpered with anxious need. 

“Shh. Shh. I know,” Danny soothed. 

“Thirsty,” Steve pleaded. He trailed his nose up Danny’s neck as fingers stroked his hair. Danny cradled Steve close, leaned against the cabinet behind them. Steve puddled against him, purring softly. 

“I know.” 

“You smell so good.” 

“I know,” Danny soothed. 

“Want you. Need you.” 

“Drink, babe,” Danny murmured. 

Steve focused on Danny’s neck, his muscles, the pump of delicious blood beneath his tanned and freckled skin. McGarrett’s jaw ached as he stretched forward. He was drooling and gasping. Panic and lust flooded his body. He was moving forward and pulling himself back, simultaneously aroused and disgusted. 

“Danno?” Steve pleaded, hesitating in spite of his need. Permission. He needed permission.

“Drink, my love,” Danny whispered, pulling Steve’s mouth towards himself. Steve was unnerved because he could see the points of his own teeth extending from his mouth as he went to sink them home. 

Golden ringlets. Long curls of hair were in his way. This wasn’t Danny. Steve suddenly put on the brakes, arms out stiff, pushing away instead drawing closer. He twisted and pushed, and found the limits of his chains. 

“Steven…..Steven….” Nellie cooed. Steve hissed as she got closer, and frightened himself with the defensive sounds he was making. He struggled to shake himself awake, taking in his surroundings. 

This shouldn’t be possible! He was on the ship. In a bedroom. Naked. Chained. His flesh was crawling, itching, every nerve twitching. 

Nellie’s hand was on his arm, moving up his shoulder. Her wrist was inches from his open mouth. Steve was drooling, jaw aching, mouth throbbing, throat aching with thirst. 

“Drink, my love.” 

Steve’s fangs dripped green onto her pale flesh. This shouldn’t be possible. The fraction of his mind which clung stubbornly to reality, to the cold hard facts, knew that Nellie could not drink enough to turn him. And yet he could feel the fangs jutting dangerously from his mouth. She should not have been able to drink him to the point that he would have manifested fangs. 

“That’s it, my love. Drink. Drink.” 

A body barreled into the room, ramming into Nellie full-speed, knocking her into the headboard. She found herself twisted backwards onto the bed, being chocked furiously. 

“Get your goddamn hands OFF MY HUSBAND!” Danny Williams snarled, fingers tightening even as his brain told him he needed to get back from the fangs Nellie was brandishing at him. His defensive anger made him stay fast where he was, choking the pants off the creature beneath him. 

It was only the surprise of the sharp fangs which sank into his nearest thigh which made Danny loosen his grip on Nellie’s throat. He was looking at Nellie, could see that she wasn’t biting him. Who the hell had their fangs in him?

“STEVE! Let go!” Danny admonished, whacking him hard on the nose. 

Steve obeyed the sharp command, lurched back, curling up in the shadows he sensed behind him. 

“Danno?” Steve panted. “What’s happening to me?” 

Nellie wriggled out from under Danny, laughing as Williams got down on the floor and carefully approached Steve. 

“It’s going to be okay, babe,” Danny promised even as he stared in amazement at Steve’s glowing blue eyes, rimmed in silver, shining from the shadows. The same eyes, only amplified, and other worldly. They were nothing compared to the impressive fangs jutting from his mouth though. 

“Stay back…” Steve warned, shaking his head in horror. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Danny promised again. 

“You smell…. Wonderful…. Delicious….” Steve rambled. “Oh God. Stay back, Danno!” 

Nellie cackled as she swept off the bed, dragging the train of white lace behind her. Was she in a wedding dress? Danny's brain whirled as he maneuvered himself between Nellie and Steve. She was wearing a wedding dress, and one of Danny’s own teeshirts pulled over it. Danny just wanted to grab her and slap her stupid. 

Heavy feet were tramping around above their heads. People were shouting. The clash of swords and the boom of cannon fire filled the air outside. Inside the room though, it was only the sound of Steve’s panicked, rasping breathing, and Nellie’s amused giggles. 

“You’re too late,” she taunted, prancing back and forth, wiggling her lacy train at Danny as she kicked at the goblet rolling back and forth on the floor as the ship rocked unsteadily. She pulled off his teeshirt and threw it onto the floor, where it trembled and disappeared into ashes. She must have taken one of Danny’s shirts when she had taken Steve’s shirt. Danny could only assume she had needed part of him, something which belonged to him, in order to create an illusion in Steve’s mind. Danny suddenly hated Nellie so intensely, so venomously, for the way she was deceiving and hurting his vulnerable partner. 

“This isn’t real,” Danny decided angrily. He struck out at Nellie when she ventured closer. She hissed and drew back, even while inching along the floor. Danny leveled a Queen Anne pistolé at her, the match to the one Steve had been carrying. Who the hell even knew where it was? Probably with his clothes? With the tracker which had led them here? Nellie continued taunting Danny, though from a safe distance. 

“It’s real. Very real. You’re too late. Steven is mine. Mine forever. Mine as he always should have been.” 

“Did she bite you?” Danny demanded of Steve over one shoulder. 

“Yes,” he nodded, hand moving to his bleeding left shoulder. 

“Did you drink from her? Stay back, or God help me, I will blow a hole in your fucking face,” Danny snarled at Nellie. “Did you drink from her, Steve?” 

“No. It wasn’t blood. It was wine. Sour wine?” Steve puzzled. 

“Blood, my blood, you did drink, you drank your fill of me,” Nellie taunted. 

“Steve, listen to me. Focus on my voice. This isn’t real. She’s fooling us with some kind of illusion,” Danny insisted. “One more inch, and I will put this bullet right in your brain,” Williams threatened, ashamed of the words, ashamed of the way he was talking to such a young girl. He had to keep reminding himself she wasn’t a defenseless child. She was a vengeful supernatural creature, and both his life and Steve's life were at stake. 

Danny used his other hand to pick up the goblet on the floor. He tipped it to his own mouth to collect the last drop in the bottom. He let it sit for a second on his tongue before spitting it out. 

“No. It wasn’t blood. It does taste like sour wine. It’s not real, Steve. Nellie hasn’t turned you. She can’t turn you without help.” 

“But I feel….weird…” Steve stammered. His fingertips trailed over the fangs.

“Not real, babe. None of this is real. She’s not strong enough to turn you on her own.” 

“You're wrong. He’s mine,” Nellie hissed, moving millimeters closer every time Danny looked away to talk to Steve. 

Danny was backed up next to Steve, one leg outstretched, determined to protect his love to the last. He was close enough that he could feel McGarrett shuddering. Nellie crawled in tighter to their huddle, her purring laughter mocking Danny. 

“Too late…. Too late…” 

“Swear to God,” Danny warned, cocking the pistolé. 

“Steven….. Steven….. don’t resist…. You know you want to join me.” 

Steve’s eyes went out of focus, his face drawn up and forward to follow her every word. 

“What did she make you drink?” Danny asked Steve. McGarrett shook his head. He didn’t know what it was, only that he was not feeling like himself. Danny had to say. If the fangs and glowing eyes were an illusion, they were a spectacular one! Danny couldn’t help but stare. Steve was uncomfortable under the close scrutiny. 

“I don’t know…” Steve whimpered quietly. 

“What did you make him drink?” Danny growled at Nellie, threatening her with the pistolé. 

“Steven, I know how much you love Daniel. I won’t make you choose between us. I’ll let you bring him too,” Nellie drawled. Her breath teased Danny’s cheek as she wound herself into the shadows with them. “I will turn you, and I will let you turn him. You and I can turn him together. Think on it. Can you not feel the beat of his heart, the pump of his blood through his veins? You and he and I could be together forever, one with each other, you—my faithful soldiers, and me—your loving mistress.” 

Steve wasn’t staring at Nellie. Now he was hungrily studying the curve of Danny’s neck, brow rising, tongue darting through the fangs to touch his own top lip. 

“We would both be forever yours,” Nellie promised. 

“Steve? Don’t …. Don’t do it,” Danny stammered. He trembled when he felt Steve’s arms pulling around him, encircling his chest, pulling along the heavy chains. 

“That’s it, my love. Just we three. Forever,” Nellie offered. It was all lies. Danny knew she would kill him the first chance she got. But did Steve know that? Danny kept himself from staring at Nellie’s face, at her glowing eyes. But it seemed she couldn’t enthrall them both at the same time. She had to concentrate on Steve to keep any measure of control over him. 

“Steve?” Danny whispered, uncomfortable with the way McGarrett’s eyes were glazing over. 

“Smell so good, Danno,” Steve whispered, running his nose against Danny’s shoulder. Did he plan to bite right through the gray dress shirt? Jesus, was Steve getting hard against Danny? At a time like this? 

“That’s it. That’s my love,” Nellie cooed. “You and me and Daniel, forever.” 

Steve was rising up on his haunches, pooling around Danny. Yes, he was getting aroused. Had Nellie made Steve drink an aphrodisiac? Oh, that made perfect sense, Danny laughed inside, holding down a chuckle even as fear made him quake. She couldn’t seduce him without drugging him first, because Steve belonged to Danny, heart and soul. An aphrodisiac was the only way Nellie had a chance to get Steve in her bed. That and shackles.

Nellie was grinning in triumph, moving in as if to share the bite with Steve. Danny quivered as fingers tugged at his shirt buttons. Were those Steve’s hands or Nellie’s hand running up his chest? 

“Love you, Danno. Love you always,” Steve purred, nose against Danny’s bare shoulder. He nuzzled Danny’s exposed flesh, running the tip of his tongue against the warmth. 

“Oh, fuck…Steve, I love you too,” Danny shivered. His eyes were glued to the silvery glimmer of Steve’s hypnotic gaze. It did not help that Danny could feel Steve’s growing erection pressing into the small of his back. Danny wondered if Steve could enthrall him, even if he hadn't actually been turned. 

“Always?” Steve pleaded hopefully. 

“Always,” Danny nodded. Steve’s features lit with happiness, with acceptance, with hope. Danny rasped for breath, steeled himself for the pinpoints to sink through his naked shoulder, reminding himself this could not be real. Nellie was not strong enough to turn Steve. All Danny should feel were the rounded points of Steve’s real human teeth if McGarrett bit him. Not that that wouldn’t hurt, but not nearly as much as the dripping fangs should hurt. 

Nellie was nosing a kiss to Steve’s cheek as McGarrett planted his feet firmly on the ground and pushed downward on Danny’s body. 

Wait. What? Danny was not expecting that.

Steve lurched up and forward while pushing Danny hard to the floor. Danny watched in amazement as Steve’s long legs went past him. McGarrett’s mouth, minus fangs, connected with Nellie’s face. Blood spurted like rain. 

Nellie shrieked. She clawed at Steve and wiggled free of his all-too-mortal bite. 

Steve knew instantly he should not have done that. Not only was she mad, she was simply delicious. One bite was all he had taken, but one bite was all that was needed to increase the unquenchable thirst a hundred fold. Steve crumbled down, whining with need, huddling against Danny. Nellie scrambled away over the bed, holding her bleeding face as blood spurted everywhere. A ruined trail of white lace followed her like a tail. 

Steve spat out the scoop of flesh he had ripped free, and though he ached to swallow the delicious juices in his mouth, he spat them out too. He frantically wiped his mouth on the sheets, rubbed the inside of his mouth raw on the slippery material. Danny couldn’t believe his eyes. As Steve was pulling the corner of the sheet out of his mouth, Danny again saw only human teeth. McGarrett was shuddering. He could feel his own teeth too. He must have been relieved. He was making sounds somewhere between relieved laughter and frantic sobs. 

"You bastard!" Nellie howled. 

Danny flattened himself against Steve, willing to risk his own body and soul as Nellie returned with a fury. He raised the pistolé and fired into the hissing rush of white and red. 

The resulting explosion of gunpowder lit the room. Nellie shrieked again, flopping over on the floor, writhing around dramatically as she wailed loudly, both hands on her face now. Down, but not out. The shot from the Queen Anne pistolé had clipped her left earlobe. She whipped up onto all-fours and advanced again, bleeding, shrieking, hissing. 

Danny lost his grip on the pistolé. Steve fumbled for it, but couldn’t seem to get a grip either. Nellie was all teeth, close enough that she was dripping on them as they huddled back against the wall. Hot breath like a furnace in Hell. They squirmed together like frightened children in the face of her burning hatred and anger. 

Steve thrust an arm forward at the last second. Danny cringed internally at the idea that his macho SEAL partner was about to punch the little girl in the face. He had to remind himself again that Nellie was a snarling, spitting dangerous supernatural creature. But apparently a punch wasn’t Steve’s plan. 

Nellie stopped short, long claws rasping over Danny's chest. She was gargling strangely. 

Steve had wrapped the heavy chain around her throat. She was caught in place, unable to mist away because of the iron. Steve gripped Nellie by the chain around her throat and lifted her off the ground, getting nose to nose with her as she gasped for breath. 

“Going somewhere?” McGarrett rumbled, grinning for a second as he panted unsurely. Danny reached up to cover Steve's eyes even as Nellie's jewel blue gaze went white with her effort to enthrall McGarrett again. 

Feet pounded past the bedroom portal. Nellie continued to whirl and gasp for air. Steve was dodging her nasty, grasping claws. He held her as far away as he could, trembling to hold her steady at arms’ length. 

"Took you fucking long enough!!" Danny howled. He reached blindly downward, pulling the ruined sheet off the bed, wrapping it around Steve’s naked body, clutching him in a hug from behind. 

Nellie was turning blue and sputtering. Petrus holstered his blunderbuss, and snatched the chain from Steve’s grip. Another hand reached around Petrus, squirmed beneath his tall arms, and latched onto one of Nellie’s wrists. 

“Eleanor Philomena Watson, you may consider yourself in the custody of the Gild,” the redhead said as she clicked a manacle onto Nellie's wrist. 

Petrus released the chain. Nellie dropped to the floor, holding her throat, gasping heavily. Her other hand was being held by the strange redhead. 

“She’s all yours, Enforcer,” Petrus purred. 

“Thank you for your assistance, Rolfsson,” the strange woman said as she hauled Nellie up to her feet, dragging her from the room as the young woman held her face with her hands and rasped in pain. 

"Let me have a look at you, Brother," Petrus offered. 

"No..." Steve protested fearfully, scrambling back into the shadows, hiding down behind Danny's legs.


	16. Sweet The Sting

Steve was hiding back in the shadows, retreating from Petrus. Danny wasn’t sure what pulled him to stay between the two of them, one hand forward stretched forward, ready to push back on Petrus’s chest if the big man got too close to Steve. 

“I need to see if you’re hurt, Scotch,” Petrus soothed. 

Steve curled up in the loose sheet, leaning his head back against the wall, knees up before him, shaking and sweating. 

“Miss Eleanor bit your shoulder?” Petrus asked, kneeling down. He stayed far enough away that Steve wasn’t going to retreat any further. McGarrett’s next option was to crawl under the heavy bed, and he was thinking about it. His manic eyes kept darting there, darting back. 

“Left shoulder,” Danny nodded. 

“Did she bite you as well?” Petrus asked, touching Danny’s thigh. 

“No. That was Steve.”

“Did you drink from her, Little Brother?” Petrus asked Steve. 

McGarrett shook his head no. 

“I bit her. Bit her face. But I did not drink,” Steve panted. “I feel strange. It didn’t…. didn’t feel like this last time. Last time. Room is spinning. I…. I’m hot. I’m….I feel….” 

“May I touch you?” Petrus asked, eyes all over him. Steve licked his lips, and nodded. 

“Yes, please…..” he moaned, knees dropping slowly to the sides. He nibbled his bottom lip with very human front teeth. 

Petrus examined the bite wound on Steve’s shoulder, and then dotted a finger carefully on the liquid which had splashed down his chest. He tasted his fingertip, and spit the trace quickly off his tongue. He banged a hand on Danny’s leg. 

“Do you have those flasks with you?” 

Remembering what Steve had done with his flask, Danny was worried for a flash second that Petrus was about to set Steve on fire. Rolfsson seemed to read Danny’s mind. One brow went up, and a smile twitched. 

“I need to wash away the potion, or I might be affected.” 

“Potion?” Danny questioned, giving up one of the flasks. Petrus drained it, and washed out his mouth, and spit on the floor. In doing so, he spotted the gob of flesh Steve had bitten out of Nellie. He picked it up, and headed for the porthole. Snatched the tiny window open, threw the bit of flesh out. 

“Miss Eleanor drugged Steve with a love potion,” Petrus explained. 

“Yeah, keep up on current events,” Danny tried to laugh, running hands through his hair. “I figured that out, like, DAYS ago. Do you know which potion it is?” 

“Yes,” Petrus whispered. He pulled his blunderbuss and rushed towards the door, where they could hear feet approaching in the hallway. Inquisitor Dotterwich appeared out of nowhere, cutlass bared. She was spackled with blood and gore, and grinning ear to ear. 

“What’s his condition?” 

“Fair, with a chance of fangs,” Petrus replied, tucking his blunderbuss away. “She drank from him, but he did not drink from her.” 

“I don’t feel right,” Steve rambled feverishly. 

“Where’s the wench?” Magruder asked, poking his head around the doorway.

“What have I told you about that term?” Dotterwich growled, lifting Magruder off the ground with one hand fisted into the top of his collar. 

“Where is our poor, unfortunate, misunderstood suspect in a major crime?” Magruder corrected himself, giving a loud gulp. 

“I handed Miss Eleanor off to Enforcer Dotterwich,” Petrus replied. 

“Ah. Well done. Winnie and I will see Miss Watson back to the Gilded Hall,” Ingrid announced. “Do you have these two in hand?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Petrus replied, giving a slight bow. 

“The ship has been disabled. The crew is in custody. Magruder is going to tow you back to port. What am I to report? Miss Watson drank from Commander McGarrett, but he did not drink from her in return?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“And that she has drugged him, but the looks of it. Poison?” 

“Love potion.” 

“Do you know which one?” 

“I believe it’s Midnight Oil.” 

“Sorry to hear it,” Dotterwich sighed. “Keep him under observation until we’re back to port. No one has enough strength left to do a mass misting, so, we’re at the mercy of the wind.” 

Steve was breathing heavily, eyes following Danny’s every move. Williams kept darting eyes back at his partner, wondering why Steve was licking his lips and sweating so profusely. 

“Midnight Oil?” Magruder laughed out loud. Dotterwich groaned. 

“This is no laughing matter,” Dotterwich muttered, cleaning off her cutlass and sliding it home in her sheath. 

“Sorry.” 

“We’ll take the captured crew to Magruder’s vessel. Evacuate all the rest but the man steering the ship.”

“I’ll stay,” Petrus offered. 

“Wait…wait…what?” Danny questioned. Steve’s eyes followed Danny hungrily. McGarrett groaned softly, and latched a hand around Danny’s ankle when he moved to step away. “What is it? What’s wrong?” 

“Midnight Oil. The strongest aphrodisiac known. We will be adding this to her list of charges,” Dotterwich explained. “It goes towards proving she had but one plan in mind. An assault against Commander McGarrett’s person, much against his will.” 

“Strongest….” Danny started to ask when he felt fingers crawling up his waist, fiddling with his pants. He slapped Steve’s hands away, whirling to give him a chiding look. “How strong?” Danny gulped. 

“The last person I saw drugged with Midnight Oil? She exhausted six men and four women before she worked the potion out of her system,” Dotterwich explained. “It’s expelled through blood, sweat, tears, and other bodily excretions.” 

“I’ll stay. He’s going to need help,” Petrus smiled gleefully. 

“Can we just get Steve out of these chains and be on our way?” Danny demanded, taking Steve’s crawling fingers into his grip to avoid losing his pants. 

“You may wanna leave him in the chains for a while,” Magruder laughed from the hallway. 

“DANNY!? STEVE!?” Chin yelled, coming into the room at full speed and almost colliding with Petrus. 

“IN HERE!” Danny yelled.

“You okay?” Chin worried. 

“For now,” Petrus smirked. 

“She bit Steve!?” Chin worried, coming close enough that Steve started eyeballing him lustfully too. Kelly’s eyes got wide when McGarrett’s fingers latched onto his ankle, climbed to his knee. 

“Steve,” Danny chided between his teeth, taking his partner’s hand off Chin’s inner thigh. 

“Is he okay?” Chin worried. 

“He will be,” Danny nodded. 

“We’re going to…. going to give you a little privacy,” Dotterwich said, pushing Magruder’s intruding face back into the hallway with one stiff arm. 

“Where’s Kono?” Danny asked. Steve was on his knees between Danny’s legs, nosing kisses to his groin. Chin was blushing. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Chin asked.

“Besides the obvious?” Danny tried to joke. “Nellie drugged him with an aphrodisiac.” 

“Oh. Oh no,” Chin frowned, keeping his eyes locked on Danny’s eyes. Williams didn’t know what Steve was up to, but Chin was blushing hard. 

“Kono?” Danny asked casually. 

“I’ll go find her,” Chin blurted, exiting as fast as humanly possible. 

“You sure you don’t want me to stay?” Petrus wondered, eyes all over Steve kneeling in front of Danny. McGarrett had the detective’s belt in his teeth, and his eyes were glowing with lust. 

“I got this,” Danny said, patting Steve’s dark hair. 

“It could take hours and hours to work the potion out of his system,” Petrus warned. 

“Yeah. Thanks. I got this,” Danny nodded. 

Petrus was muttering in his native tongue as he left. The portal closed with a thump. Steve was purring, clawing at Danny’s pants. 

“Hey. It’s okay. Slow down. We got all the time you need,” Danny soothed, getting down on the floor with Steve, kissing him gently. 

Steve pined anxiously, opening his mouth, offering up his tongue. Danny obliged with a tender buss, caressing Steve’s wounded shoulder. 

“You’re burning up,” Danny whispered, pulling slowly away, looking around the cabin. “Do you think there’s a bathroom?” 

Steve was nibbling Danny’s neck, pulling and pushing at his shirt to take it off. 

“Let me wash your wound, dress it.”

“Don’t go,” Steve pleaded.

“I’ll be right back,” Danny soothed again. As he stood up to walk towards the door he assumed must lead to a bathroom, Steve collapsed onto the floor, pining with need. Danny tugged on the knob. He found a huge closet filled with a preponderance of tiny clothes. He closed the first door and went to the next, finding tiny pass-through which led to a bathroom the size of a bedroom. He wondered if Nellie had had time to turn the original bathroom into a closet, and turn the second bedroom on the yacht into a gigantic bathroom. Or maybe whoever she had bought the yacht from had made renovations. Where had she gotten the money? Had she sold her pearls for money, as Steve had speculated she might?

Danny was dazzled for a second, before he heard Steve pining and whimpering from the other side of the bed. McGarrett had his back to the mattress, head tilted skyward, and the chains were rattling in a rhythmic manner. Danny stifled a snort of amusement, and hunted up the things he would need. 

“Behave. I’ll be right there,” Danny called, carrying over several damp cloths, a first-aid kit, and a manicure set. The chains stopped rattling. Steve shifted his long legs, hiding his body down inside the silken sheets stained with blood and potion and sweat. 

“Sorry…I….I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I feel….so hot…” Steve panted. Danny caressed his face and forehead with one of the damp cloths, and Steve sighed with happiness. Danny washed off the seeping shoulder bite, popping open the first-aid kit. 

“Are you thirsty?” 

“Yeah,” Steve whispered, closing his eyes. His long lashes were damp, and his face was flushed red. 

“Here. Hold this,” Danny said, dropping one of Steve’s hands onto his left shoulder, over the gauze covering his bite wound. 

Danny threw the contents of the manicure set onto the bed, rooting around. Steve watched him with dazed amusement. 

“Now’s not really the time for a clip and buff, is it?” McGarrett managed to joke while working one foot between Danny’s legs and rubbing him suggestively. 

“Give me your other hand,” Danny ordered, scooping up Steve’s fingers, working the manacle around so he could have a look at the lock. 

“Since when…. when are you an expert…. on…” Steve fumbled through the sentence, blurry eyes focused on Danny’s features, his lashes, his China blue eyes. All the humor left his face when Danny cut him off bluntly. 

“The next time a vampire witch shows up on your doorstep, and says she’s been assigned to protect you from harm, will you promise me to at least entertain the notion of accepting her offer?” 

“Yes, Danno,” Steve whispered in reply, chin dropping sheepishly. 

“Not an expert,” Danny grunted, fumbling with the file and breaking it in half. “This is it, babe. This is where it ends.” 

“Danno?” Steve asked. 

“You don’t owe her anything. Lucy. The Lady Lucille Strickrott is on her own from here on out. If Nellie manages to worm her way out of trouble this time, Lucy is not going to ask for your help to find her.”

“But I am beholden to the Mistress,” Steve protested softly. 

“No. No, you are not. Listen to me, big stupid lug. Hey. My eyes are up here,” Danny said, lifting Steve’s chin with one hand before picking up a cuticle remover, and jamming the tiny nose into the lock mechanics. “You are not expendable. You are not just cannon fodder. I love you. It kills me to see you hurt. I hate to see you value yourself so little that you think nothing of throwing yourself in danger for other people.”

“Pretty eyes,” Steve replied, bending forward to rub his nose to Danny’s cheek. 

"That goes for Doris. That goes for Joe. That goes for Lucy. That goes double for Lieutenant Rollins. You are not just a piece of meat, a warm body they can order to your death when it suits their needs. You matter, Steve. You matter, goddamn it. Are you listening to me?” Danny snapped. The cuticle remover broke too. Williams cursed, and threw the broken parts across the room. 

“Mm hmm,” Steve nodded. He nestled one long leg between Danny’s thighs, and lifted his knee, pulling Danny close against his chest. He wrapped an arm around Danny’s waist, and leaned on him. 

“I love you, Steve. I…. I can’t imagine my life without you. I want to grow old with you. I want to turn gray with you. I want you by my side, forever and ever, I do.” 

Steve mumbled softly, "No you don't," as he was tucking his face against Danny’s neck. 

“Yes, I do,” Danny replied. 

Steve shook his head no. “You’ll leave me too. Everyone leaves me. You don’t think so now, but there’s going to come a time when you have to choose between me and someone else. Something else. And you aren’t going to choose me. No one ever does,” Steve murmured, pain filling his distant eyes. “I’m just…. I’m not…. I’m not…. worth the trouble, I guess.”

Danny put down the orange stick, tugging Steve’s hair, pulling him back far enough to look him in the eyes. 

“You are worth it.” 

“High maintenance,” Steve murmured through a sniffle, biting his mouth, eyes round and wet. 

“Oh, babe,” Danny snorted. “You give new meaning to the term ‘high maintenance’.”

“Everyone leaves me,” Steve sighed, turning his head away, leaning back against the bed. “Danno, I’m so hot… make it stop,” he whined, shifting around. 

Danny yelped with excitement when the manacle popped open. His excitement turned to sympathy. Steve’s wrist was rubbed raw underneath. 

“Let me have your other hand, babe,” Danny whispered. He soothed the hurt with gentle kisses, moving to the wrist that Steve timidly presented. 

“Love you, Danno.” 

“Love you too, babe,” Danny replied, lifting his eyes to watch Steve’s face. McGarrett’s eyes were drifting around the room in a daze. “I won’t leave you, Steve. Ever. Do you understand me? Am I getting through?” 

“Mm hmm,” Steve nodded, eyes turned away. 

“Look at me,” Danny whispered. Steve’s eyes wandered back to his. “When have I ever let you down?”

“You haven’t.” 

“And I never will. I mean, babe, honestly? What do I have to do to earn your trust? I’m your backup. I have been. From Day One. Am I right?” 

“Yes, Danno.” 

“Yes, yes, yes, awwww, yeeeeeesssss,” Danny exclaimed, clicking the other manacle open and dragging it off. He put both arms around Steve, and tucked McGarrett’s face close. “Good. Now quit being a maudlin piss-baby. Can you stand up?” 

Steve snorted, covered his nose, and wobbled to his feet. He held tight to the sheet, attempting to hide his aroused state. Danny pulled Steve through the tiny pass-through and into the gigantic bathroom on the other side. 

“Whoa,” Steve whispered in awe. Danny opened the walk-in shower, turned on the water, and pulled Steve inside under the spray of the huge nozzle. He laughed when he looked down. Steve was holding tight to the ruined sheet. 

“Sit down,” Danny ordered as McGarrett trembled unsteadily. He fumbled through the bottles and phials lined up in the shower. “There’s shampoo for curly hair. There’s conditioner for curly hair. There’s body wash that smells like coconut milk. There’s even… what the hell is this for?” he wondered, pulling a small bottle close. “Personal Feminine Hy……. I don’t think you’ll need this,” he added, flinging the bottle over one shoulder and out of the open door. 

Steve smirked sadly, leaning his head under the water again. Rivulets ran over his skin, and he gasped with pleasure.

“You wanna help me?” McGarrett asked. 

“I don’t know what to do with you sometimes,” Danny admitted, grabbing the shampoo, filling his palm. He grabbed Steve’s skull, and started roughly washing his hair for him. 

“Oh… mm… well, I can explain what to do if you’re at loss,” Steve joked, wrapping himself around one of Danny’s legs. 

“I don’t feel right about this,” Danny replied, rinsing Steve’s hair for him. 

“Right about what?” Steve questioned. 

“You’re under the influence. It’s not right to sleep with you when you’re too drugged to give consent under the law.” 

“Okay. You’re welcome to watch me jerk off for twelve hours or so, but I'm gonna find that both creepy and unnerving.” 

“Is the water clearing your head?” Danny wondered, grinning from ear to ear. 

“A little,” Steve nodded, nose against Danny’s skin. 

“Colder?” Danny wondered. 

“No. It’s… it’s perfect,” Steve answered. Danny took his hands and pulled them up, kissing gently. "You smell so good," Steve whispered. 

“We’ll stay right here until you’re in your right mind.”

“You’re sure you got that kinda time?” Steve wondered, pulling Danny’s hands down to his mouth, kissing and nipping, sucking suggestively. 

“Gonna need my hands, babe,” Danny mused, picking up the bath fluffy, pouring body wash into the meshy fabric. He started washing Steve’s neck and chest, down his back as well. “You’re a mess. You know that?” 

“Yeah,” Steve nodded grimly. 

“But I wouldn’t change you,” Danny admitted. 

Steve chortled softly, lifting his chin, offering his neck. Danny dropped a gentle kiss onto his mouth. Steve pined in reply. 

“Don’t tease,” he pleaded. 

“I marry you.” 

“What?” Steve blinked. 

“I marry you,” Danny repeated, nosing another kiss. 

“Are you casting a spell on me?” McGarrett mused. 

“I marry you” Danny repeated again, whispering kisses down the side of Steve’s neck, across his wounded left shoulder. “There. You belong to me now.” 

“What?”

“Isn’t there a culture where if I say ‘I marry you’ three times, you belong to me, irrevocably, forever and ever?” 

“If there isn’t, there should be,” Steve answered. 

“Well, that settles it then.”

“Settles what?” 

Danny washed Steve’s chest again, nosing kisses over his bruised flesh. 

“You’re mine. We’re married. I get to complain about your driving.” 

“You already complain about my driving,” Steve let out a half-smile. 

“Pick out a fucking China pattern, McGarrett. I'm going to start smoking a pipe, asking for my dinner jacket and slippers when I come home.” 

Steve narrowed his eyes, watching his partner. 

“Don’t tease me,” he warned. 

“I’m not teasing,” Danny promised. “This is it. I’m promising you forever. The little pink house, with the white picket fence. Two kids. All we need is a pet, and it’ll be happily ever after, right?” 

Steve was snorting again, trying to divest Danny of what was left of his soaking wet clothes. 

“It doesn’t work like that in real life, Danno.” 

“It does if I say it does. Who wears the pants in this family?” 

Steve totally lost it, cackling, leaning back against the tiles. 

“I do,” he replied with an angry frown. 

“Only when I let you,” Danny growled, fingers tracing Steve’s ribs. “You all right here? Someone kick you?”

“ ‘m all right,” Steve whispered. Danny caressed his chest, nosing another kiss to his neck, under his chin. 

“I meant what I said.” 

“I’m high maintenance?” 

“I want to grow old with you.” 

“Okay,” Steve murmured, not sounding at all convinced. 

"You're mine, and you're a pain in the ass, and I love you." 

"Can we fuck now? Cause I'm pretty sure my balls are gonna fall off if they turn any more blue," Steve murmured, pushing Danny's hand down to investigate for himself. 

“Such a romantic. Think there’s anything in here we can safely use for lubrication?” Danny wondered, hands fumbling over the bottles and phials again. 

“I sincerely hope so,” Steve rasped hungrily.


	17. Adrift and Ashore

Petrus was pacing in the hallway several hours later, trying not to listen while at the same time unable to ignore the audible moaning and groaning, or the way the heavy wooden headboard was slamming into the adjoining wall. He snorted in vague annoyance, and was going to make quick work of exiting the area, when he heard the doorknob turning. 

Danny peeked out into the hallway while pushing his hair back out of his eyes. 

“Hey, big guy?” 

Petrus reluctantly dragged himself to the door and loomed downward to speak face to face with the detective. Danny was naked, sweaty, and wrapped up in a delicate, lacy robe which looked frankly ridiculous with mounds of chest hair pushing through. 

“Hey,” Danny repeated, fighting a smile. “Quick question?” 

“Yes?” Petrus intoned, his annoyance very clear. 

Danny hesitated, caught his breath, rubbed his forehead for a moment. Then he blurted one word. “Purple?” 

“Perfectly normal,” Petrus responded, rolling his eyes. 

“Okay,” Danny sighed. “Steve kinda freaked out. It’s the potion?” 

“Yes. It’s the potion.”

“So when he’s no longer….um…. no longer….”

“When he stops coming purple, the potion has been worked out of his system.” 

“Good to know,” Danny sighed with relief again. He stuck his head back around the doorframe. “Did you hear that? Petrus said it’s normal.” 

There was a muffled grunt or two from the bed. Petrus peered above and behind Danny. Steve was sprawled across the mattress sideways, on his stomach, limbs askew, groaning softly in his sleep. Every hair on Steve’s body was standing up in a different direction. He was wrapped in a clean sheet from the linen closet in the bathroom. There was a growing pile of dirty sheets on the far side of the bed.

“So….” Danny said, clearing his throat to get Petrus’s attention. 

“Yes? You have other questions?” Rolfsson asked, sarcasm hanging in his deep tone. 

“Magruder is a ship’s captain, am I right?” 

“Yes. When he became one with us, he was a captain in the Royal Navy.” 

“Could you bring him?” 

“Bring him? Here, you mean?” 

“Yes,” Danny nodded. Petrus’s brows went north, and his jaw sagged south. 

“Why?” the big man intoned. 

“Just do it. Please?” Danny asked. 

The door closed with a thump. Petrus frowned at the wooden portal, and against his own better judgment, went off to find Magruder. 

When Petrus knocked, Danny opened the door almost at once. Had he been waiting there the entire time? Enforcer Magruder stood in the portal. He and Petrus were wearing identical frowns. 

“Laddy, I don’t know where you’ve gotten your mistaken impression, but playing Slap and Tickle with you two is not my cup o’ tea,” Magruder blurted, blushing red against his shocking white hair. 

“What?” Danny mumbled. “Oh. Oh! No, no, no. That’s not why I wanted you here.” 

“Nice peignoir,” Petrus chortled. 

Danny drew the material closer. “My clothes got wet. And stained. And ripped in a couple places,” he confessed shyly. A tiny grin pulled his mouth horizontally a second later, the sly smile brought on by recent, happy remembrance. 

“Why am I here, Williams?” Magruder demanded. 

“You’re a ship’s captain.” 

“I am, laddy.” 

“Does maritime law permit you to perform marriages at sea?” 

Magruder fell quiet. One eye growing larger than the other. Eyebrow rising into his forehead. Petrus was ready to vomit flaming kittens. 

“Sorry to disappoint you, but that’s a myth, a fallacy. No, I’m not permitted to perform marriages. You have to be ordained to be able to do that.”

“I always thought ship’s captains could perform marriages,” Danny deflated with defeat. 

“If I were an ordained priest, which I am not; or if I had a pastoral degree, which I do not; or if I were a Christian minister of the faith, which I am not,” Magruder continued. 

“Sorry to presume,” Danny bowed. 

“Not at all,” Magruder bowed back. “I wasn’t the religious sort before, and I’m not the religious sort now.”

“What about you? You’re the religious sort,” Danny pointed at Petrus. Rolfsson stroked his mother’s crucifix, and choked on a bad case of heartburn.

“No,” he said simply. It was hard to tell if that meant he didn’t, or he wasn’t allowed to, or that he wouldn’t. But given the force with which Petrus had bitten off the syllable, Danny didn’t pursue the tangent. Petrus had peevishly given a brief thought to offering his mother's services, as she was ordained a priestess in _her_ particular religion, but dismissed the thought at once, ashamed of the depths of his own childish petty feelings. 

“What about your governor?” Magruder interjected.

“What?” Danny mumbled. “Denning?” 

“Is he not allowed to perform civil unions?”

“I’m not quite sure,” Danny fumbled. “Have you seen my phone? I can’t seem to find it.” 

Petrus held up one palm. 

“I’ve been fielding your messages while you’ve been busy.” 

“I thought you didn’t like phones.”

“Detective Kelly put it on ‘vibrate’ for me.”

Danny held out his hand, and Petrus slipped him his phone. 

Steve was beginning to stir. By stir, this meant he was opening an eye, casting the single orb around like a grumpy cyclopes while one set of fingers wrinkled into the freshly-changed sheets. 

“Danno?” Steve called out. “Help?” 

“Be right there!” Danny called. “Thanks. Bye,” he whispered to Petrus and Magruder, disappearing again. 

Minutes later, once the bed was still again, Petrus could hear two distinct snore patterns croaking in concert, like frogs in a swamp at night calling out to one another. If he were the romantic sort, which he wasn’t, he might have found it adorable, but he didn’t. He swore to himself that he was not going to pace in the hallway any more until the ships had reached Oahu. 

That edict lasted about twenty minutes. He had returned by rote, he reasoned, because it was a small yacht, and reconnoitering the ship’s passageways had led him right back to this same door. Danny must have heard Petrus’s footsteps. The portal swung open at his approach. 

“Hate to be a pest,” Danny began. 

“Too late,” Petrus murmured, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Do you know where Steve’s tuxedo is?” 

Petrus did know, in fact. He had found the tuxedo and the tracker and Steve’s phone by dialing Danny’s phone, stuffed in a life vest box up on deck. 

“I can search,” Rolfsson answered as though it might be a pointless task. 

“Do what you can. Thanks. I might need actual clothes too,” Danny added, tapping his own phone in his palm. He was smiling brightly. 

“How is he?” Petrus asked. 

“Sleeping,” Danny replied. 

“Better?” 

“Better.” 

“Good,” Petrus nodded.

“Amazing,” Danny groaned, biting his bottom lip and curling up against the door for a second. Petrus’s face froze with discomfort. “I was able to reach Governor Denning. He is going to send someone,” Danny added. “A judge. A license. You know. All the necessities. Soon. Keep a look out?” 

“Of course.” 

“Thanks. Thanks. I appreciate it. So does Steve.” 

“I am speechless with joy.” 

“Great,” Danny sighed happily, closing the door again. Petrus barely jerked his face back in time to avoid a broken nose. 

Petrus would have preferred a broken nose to the ensuing festivities. Danny insisted they had a forty-five minute window, though it might be slightly longer, considering the fact that Steve was wearing out physically, and his refractory period was taking longer and longer. 

An hour later, when dawn was drawing close over the eastern horizon, they were all gathered together on the deck of Magruder’s ship. The judge had arrived by helicopter, which had set down on the broader deck, but only after being reassured that the vessel was a recreation for a movie being shot in the area, and that the gathered crew and others was a reenactor group which had been hired as extras. Chin negotiated with the judge, and had sworn that he could not reveal who was in the movie, being as the principal stars were very secretive and the entire operation was hush-hush, but the judge was utterly convinced she might be seeing herself on the big screen at some point, and she was tickled pink by the notion, only too happy to serve. 

Danny convinced Steve to put on his tuxedo. He could not coax him into shoes though. Magruder found a crew member on his ship whose uniform fit Danny snuggly, but it did fit. Kono installed herself as Matron of Honor, and pushed Chin into position as Best Man. Magruder’s crew served as witnesses, only too happy for a reason to drink and dance and make merry. Petrus moped around like it was dreary funeral, and tried hard not to think about Rotterdam. 

The whole ceremony was conducted in roughly twenty minutes, by the light of the fading moon and the coming dawn, on a wooden deck awash in a sea of candles and the occasional splash of ocean spray. Danny grinned like a fool the whole time. Steve swayed with each rock and roll of the sea, arm around Danny, nose in his ear. 

“It’s so real, and lifelike,” McGarrett murmured softly. Danny hushed him with a pat on the head. Steve giggled, and curled up around Danny like an amorous octopus. 

Ceremony finished, having heard the magic words of ‘You may now kiss your beloved husband’, Steve tackled Danny to the deck with a delirious shout of glee, ripping through his borrowed clothes like a starved hyena through zebra flesh. Chin and Kono ushered them temporarily into the captain’s cabin, which flustered Magruder to no end. 

“I’ll have to have the whole place fumigated,” Magruder groused to Petrus, who could not help but agree. 

Petrus was never so happy to see land, or dawn, in his entire miserable existence. He promised himself all manner of consolation for not killing the entire lot of them and feasting on flesh and blood for days before setting the ships aflame and adrift. He would get over his disappointment in time, and that was something he had in spades. More's the pity.


	18. Kiss of Life

Steve woke to a rumble vibrating his chest. Was he snoring? That was unusual. He thought about how his father used to sit in the leather Lazy-Boy, and snore like a freight train on weekend afternoons, and how Steve swore he was never going to turn into that tired old guy who slept away his weekends. There were footsteps downstairs, soft voices on the lanai. Steve was experiencing the weird sensation of déjà vu as he pulled himself into semi-alertness. 

He wasn’t snoring. Someone next to him was though. He rolled over and snuggled close to the familiar, compact, muscular body. It was okay if Danny snored. Steve found the habit very adorable in his partner. 

Was it Sunday morning or Monday morning? He wasn’t sure. He glanced at the clock. 5:27. 

The sun wasn’t up yet. If the alarm rang at 5:30, it was Monday morning. Time to get up, swim, eat breakfast, jump in the shower, put on some clothes, and head to work. What case had they been working Friday? No, no. They had closed a case on Friday, hadn’t they? They had been in the cargo hold, he and Danny and Chin, using a torch to melt the bulkhead. 

Steve sleepily nosed his way through disarrayed blond hair. Danny smelled like sea salt, and sweat, and dirty sex. Not “in the bed, under the covers, thank-you-you’re-welcome” sex. He smelled like “pants down in a dark alley-quick before someone sees us” sex. He smelled wonderful. Steve sucked on Danny’s earlobe, applying just enough teeth to break through to Danny’s sleeping brain. 

Danny groaned as if in pain, and clamped a hand over Steve’s roaming mouth. 

“Insatiable animal,” Danny mumbled, frowning cross-eyed through a swath of hair. Steve snorted with amusement, and retreated to his own pillow. 

The alarm went off, shattering the peaceful calm. Danny smacked the clock with a vengeance. He sat up in the middle of the bed, and yawned like a lion. 

“We’re home. How did we get home?” Williams wondered. 

Steve tilted his head in confusion. Hadn’t they been home already? Danny ran his hands through his hair, and caught on something. Danny’s eyes went wide, and he stuffed his hands under his bent knees. Steve smiled, brushing one thigh against Danny’s bare hip. Williams watched McGarrett carefully. 

“How do you feel?” Danny asked.

“Tired. Sore. My shoulder hurts. Did you bite me?” Steve wondered, turning his head sideways to examine the large bruise and bite on his left shoulder. 

“No. I didn’t bite you. Smile for me.” 

“Whu?” Steve yawned. 

“Smile for me,” Danny repeated. 

“ ‘Kay,” Steve answered, giving a broad grin. Danny peered into the very back of his mouth, and then patted him on the cheek. 

“That’s good. What do you remember?” Danny wondered, curling his lips inward as though he were dreading the response. 

Steve surveyed Danny before answering, as though this might be a trick question or a test which involved a display of emotions. He hated that!

“About what?” 

“Last night.” 

“We were on a ship,” Steve decided. “We torched our way out of the cargo hold, you and me and Chin.” 

“Oh,” Danny said, crestfallen for a moment. 

_‘Shit!’_ Steve thought. _‘It was a test! What did I say wrong?’_

“No. No. Wait. We were….. we were on the deck of a ship, and there were candles, and stars, and the moon, and….my head hurts,” Steve mumbled. Danny brightened through his nervousness. 

“Steve?” he added tentatively. “We need to talk.” 

“Swim first?” Steve hoped. The four most dreaded words in the English language! What did they need to talk about? How much of an ass had he made of himself last night? 

“Coffee,” Danny answered. “Then we talk.” 

“ ‘Kay,” Steve agreed unwillingly. He rolled out of bed with a thump, and climbed to his feet. Steve weaved into the hallway a step ahead of Danny. Williams walked like his butt cheeks had been welded together, muttering with each step. 

“Oh… oh my….Oh. fuck. Jesus. Fuck.” 

Steve thought that litany of curses sounded very familiar, as he plodded down the steps at an awkward roll. Why had he been compensating for the sway of a sea-going vessel? 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Danny continued as he headed for the bathroom. He relieved himself forever, like tipping over an overfull watering can. He could have drenched the entire lawn. 

Steve pushed in the bathroom door. 

“Were you raised by wolves?” Danny asked, annoyed at the intrusion. 

“No, Danno. Wolves aren’t native to Hawaii,” Steve responded. 

“What do you need which can’t wait until I’m done?” 

“Denning left a voicemail message. He wants us at the office, wikiwiki. Something about a change in the case from the Norwegian consulate?”

“Oh?” Danny asked nervously. 

“Did we get a case over the weekend?”

“You don’t remember?” Danny asked. Ulfie had said something about how enthrallment can cause amnesia for events before and after, hadn’t he? Was that what was going on with Steve this morning? 

“The last couple of days are kind of a blur for me,” Steve admitted. “I’m gonna check in with Chin.” 

“Can you do that in the hallway?” Danny asked. Steve rolled his eyes dramatically while stepping out again. 

When Danny lumbered down the stairs a few minutes later, he was muttering to himself. 

“That man’s got a lot of nerve, yanking our chains this early on a Monday morning.” 

“Rise and shine, Danno?” Steve asked hopefully. 

“I will rise, but I refuse to shine,” Williams scowled. 

“We need to talk,” Steve said. 

Danny stopped cold at the bottom of the stairs. Steve was sitting at the table, fingers caressing a shiny pair hand muskets shaped like dolphins. There was a wide leather belt, and an exquisite rapier, as well as several bottles of very old scotch. Steve stared at the antiques, and back at Danny. McGarrett held up a silken ribbon, on which dangled a single golden band. The ring matched the one which was on Danny’s left hand, third finger. 

“You wanna talk now?” Steve pressed. 

“Coffee first,” Danny pleaded, feeling like a weasel, but his stomach dropped through his knees at the sight of the matching ring, and he couldn’t bring himself to launch into what he needed to tell Steve, not without a shot of caffeine first. Steve caught him by one arm as he went past. Danny made it to the coffee brewer, pulling Steve along. Steve stood beside Danny, leaning backwards against the counter, blocking Danny’s path to the grounds and the filters. Steve held up the ribbon and the ring. 

“Did you slip me a Mickey, and haul me to an all-night wedding chapel?” McGarrett wondered, a tiny, nervous giggle escaping his throat. He wasn’t entirely against the idea then. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t storming around and stomping and yelling. 

“Coffee?” Danny pleaded. 

“Are we hitched?” Steve asked, voice rising, as he pulled the ring off the ribbon and fought for words. Danny took the ring, slid it onto Steve’s third finger, and then ushered him gently aside. Steve was hypnotized with terror by the sight of that ring on his finger. There was no other way to describe him—he was petrified. 

“Yes,” Danny replied matter-of-factly. He was proud of the way he managed to fluff out the filter and keep his hands from shaking. He ladled a few scoops of grounds into the filter, and then maneuvered around the gob-smacked McGarrett in order to get water. Williams swirled water around in the pot, filled it, carried it to the machine. 

“Why would you want to marry me?” Steve blurted, flabbergasted. 

Danny’s heart caught in his throat, and sadness washed over him. He almost dropped the coffee pot. He pulled down two mugs, patting Steve’s hip to get him to slide down the counter a little. 

“Ma says you’re a good catch,” he shrugged, as though that were the deciding factor. Ma had also said Candy Domanico was a good catch in tenth grade, but look how that had turned out! 

“I’m impossible. I drive you crazy. I like pineapple on my pizza. You hate my driving. I boss you around all the time. You swore you were never going to get married again, ever. Something about a butt lined in gold bars. I just… I thought… I didn’t…. How drunk was I this weekend that I can’t remember the most important day of my life?” Steve wanted to bawl. He clearly could not believe this had happened. 

Danny couldn’t help the smile that sprang up, however tinged with sadness it was. 

“Steve, you are impossible. You do drive me crazy. You do drive like a maniac. None of that changes the fact I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” 

“Oh,” Steve whispered, very touched. He stared at the ring on his finger, rolling it gently around and around. “I don’t know what to say,” he admitted softly. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” Danny whispered, stretching up to kiss Steve’s cheek. 

“Did we sign a license?” 

“Yes.” 

“Who officiated?” 

“I don’t remember her name.” 

“Should we send her a fruit basket?” 

“Knock yourself out. She signed the license, so… you know….” Danny shrugged. 

“I…. wow,” Steve whispered, eyes glued to the ring on his hand. “I don’t know what to say.” 

Danny could only smile, pat Steve on the shoulder, and shove him to the side again to get a spoon, and some sugar. How could this man be almost forty, and be rendered speechless by the idea that someone could love him enough to want to marry him? Danny spooned crystals into the mugs, and watched Steve’s expression. Disbelief. Skepticism. Hope. Fear. Sadness. Steve’s eyes crawled from the floor to land on Danny’s face again. 

“I don’t know what to say," Steve wibbled, chin trembling. 

“You don’t have to say a thing,” Danny promised. 

Steve dotted the most platonic kiss in history on Danny’s cheek. 

“Thanks,” he whispered before sliding past his partner, his husband, and fleeing upstairs. The bathroom door closed and locked. 

“ ‘Thanks’?” Danny frowned. 

Danny was still frowning to himself when he heard the shower turn on. The falling water didn’t mask the sound of sobbing. Danny leaned against the counter, and felt his heart breaking for Steve. Was the idea that someone loved him this much so overwhelming that all he could do was cry? As Danny sipped his java, he plotted revenge for Steve’s sake. Danny was going to spend the rest of his life hunting down everyone who ever made Steve feel like he wasn’t worthy of being loved. Danny was going to shove this ring in their faces, and tell them to stay the Hell away from Steve. Forever. That’s it. You are no longer welcome to come into this man’s life, and treat him like shit, treat him like an expendable piece of meat, and make him believe he isn’t worthy of being loved. 

Steve emerged downstairs in ten minutes, pretending nothing had happened. Danny allowed him to go on pretending, because sometimes, that little bit of self-deception might be all that lay between chaos and calm. Danny upheld the time-honored, Williams clan tradition that when someone was upset but not ready to deal with their overwhelming emotions, you fed them. He dragged Steve out of the house, and headed for the most immediate source of comfort food. 

Twenty minutes, and two orders of malasadas later, Danny was brushing sugar off his tie, splitting the last treat with McGarrett as they climbed the steps to the 5-0 offices. Steve had masked his rollercoaster emotions very well. Danny didn’t let on that he had heard anything abnormal. It broke his heart yet again, because Steve wouldn’t get more than two steps away from him without looking back at him in nervous wonder. 

“Sugar,” Danny said, pulling on Steve’s elbow.

“Honey?” Steve tilted his head, thinking they were trying out cute nicknames for each other. 

“Babe,” Danny sighed, patting his cheek. 

“Yeah?” Steve grinned. 

“Sugar on your mouth, babe,” Danny clarified.

“Oh,” Steve laughed. He licked his lips seductively before cramming his half of the last malasada inside his gaping maw. It was like watching a snake envelope a mouse. Yes, Steve was a Neanderthal, but he was Danny’s Neanderthal.

Kono waited inside the door at 5-0 headquarters, grinning broadly. Chin was there as well, too nervous to smile. The Governor was in Steve’s office, which looked strangely off-kilter, as though it had been reconstructed in a big-ass hurry. The paint on the window sills glistened wetly. The desk was slightly askew. The ship-in-a-bottle was tucked into a special alcove in the wall, one Steve did not remember being there before. 

“What the hell?” Danny whispered. 

“Hell,” Steve echoed. 

Governor Denning beamed at them, and hustled into the outer common area. Danny saw that there were two women in sunglasses and big hats, wearing long, flowing mumus, sitting in his office. Then the Governor pounced. He grabbed Steve’s hand first, shaking wildly; grabbed Danny’s hand next, shaking him to his very foundations. 

“Visitors,” Chin pointed out somewhat unnecessarily. 

“Yup,” Danny nodded. 

“Let me be the first to say ‘congratulations’, and ‘I told you so’, and I’m very happy for you. For both of you. For all of you,” Denning amended himself a couple times, all the while shaking hands like he was campaigning. Maybe that came naturally to politicians? In case of emergency, start shaking hands and grinning a wide, friendly smile.

Steve stiffened and blushed, unable to muster his usual aplomb. He could field-strip a HumVee down to the chassis while taking heavy artillery fire, or neatly pick off a target at a distance without feeling a single sting of remorse, or parachute into enemy territory without a flinch of concern. But man, you put Steve in a situation which involved displaying vulnerable, human emotions, and the SEAL turned into a big, blue, popsicle of fear.

Danny couldn’t help himself. He whacked Steve on the butt, and shook Denning’s hand mano-a-mano, grinning his way through this awkward situation. 

“Finally made an honest man out of him. All it took was a life-or-death situation, and about a gallon of Mexican tequila. I knew he’d come around eventually,” Danny joked. 

Chin and Kono joined Denning in the chuckle, knowing Williams was kidding. Steve, on the other hand, was getting pale and shaky. 

“It’s a good thing I know you’re kidding,” Denning laughed. His face fell the next second, became stern and serious. “Because if not, I’d have to have you arrested for physical assault and sexual coercion, Detective Williams.” 

“No, no, nope, it’s…I…hey… no, no, no,” Steve blurted, managing to put a few syllables together. “Danny’s joking. Of course he’s joking. He’s joking,” McGarrett repeated uncomfortably. The flick of one eyebrow silently added one word. _‘Right?’_

“Of course I’m joking,” Danny howled louder than necessary. Steve was laughing the kind of laugh that only needs one more push to descend into wild-eyed panic and possible madness. The laugh stopped abruptly, and Steve bit his mouth closed, eyes wide with concern. Danny rubbed his side, leaning against his arm. 

Denning grinned again. “I hate to break up this wonderful moment, but I need to know where we stand on the case from the Norwegian consulate.” 

“The case from the…” Steve puzzled. 

“You remember?” Chin said. 

“Big, naked, dead Goth guy in the alley?” Kono said slowly. Not a single glimmer of remembrance lit Steve’s face. 

“Things have changed somewhat since Friday night. Kari tells me that it was all a misunderstanding, a practical joke pulled off by one of his old college buddies,” Denning explained. 

“Oh?” Steve peeped. 

“It was?” Danny asked, nervously licking his lips and staring around Denning to the two women waiting in his office. Even through the dark glasses and big hats, Danny recognized Addie. But who was the other lady? Both were watching this exchange very carefully. 

“Yeah. He’s done this for years. Peter likes to follow Kari around, and pull pranks on him for fun. No harm done. You can stop investigating the dead man in the alley,” Denning ordered. 

“Who doesn’t like the occasional prank?” Steve worked up a believable grin. 

“It’s just that this morning Kari called to let me know that Doktor Vang left without saying goodbye. Left without checking out of his hotel too. Packed up the weapons exhibit, and disappeared into the wind. They were supposed to fly together. Kari was surprised, and concerned, that’s all. He asked if I could get my best people to follow up on where Vang went, make sure he arrives safely,” Denning explained. 

“We can check into, sure,” Steve agreed, crossing his arms, looking serious. He was relieved for the change of subject. 

“Vang can be tempestuous. You probably pissed him off royally by accusing him of murder. This might be a case of him taking his toys and going home in a huff.” 

“Sorry,” Steve offered contritely. He couldn’t remember who Doktor Vang was, but he was willing to give him to benefit of the doubt. That was likely to change when he did remember who Doktor Vang was, Danny mused to himself. 

“Could you and your team follow-up on Vang? See where he took off to?” Denning asked. 

“Yes, sir,” Steve nodded. 

“Good! Thanks! I’ll leave this in your capable hands. Have you made any honeymoon plans?” Denning asked. 

“We’ll take a couple weeks. Visit the parents in New Jersey. Maybe head to Paris,” Danny shrugged. 

“Ah, Paris. The City of Love,” Kono sighed, hand over her heart. 

“The City of Love,” Chin agreed. 

“I hate Paris,” Steve frowned. “Too many tourists.” 

“What about Rome?” 

Steve groused, “Too many Italians in Rome.” 

“Venice?” Danny offered, while his face was saying ‘WTF do you mean, too many Italians in Rome?’. 

“Ugh,” Steve pouted. 

“We’ll talk about it later,” Danny threatened.

“Let’s go to Maui,” Steve suggested. Danny suddenly choked, like he might have swallowed a live toad instead of his last bite of malasada. 

“First find out where Doktor Vang went, and then I don’t want to see or hear from you two for at least two weeks. Is that understood?” Denning pressed, clapping hands on both Steve and Danny’s shoulders simultaneously. 

“Understood, sir,” McGarrett agreed. “We’ll head over to the doctor’s hotel. That’s the best place to start.” 

“Keep me posted,” Denning barked, striding away with a satisfied smile. He got to the top of the stairs, and stopped like he had hit a brick wall. He turned around, puzzlement on his face, as though something had freaked him out, or caused a frisson of concern to trace his spine. “Keep me posted,” he repeated from outside the glass doors, waving uncertainly as he headed downstairs and out of the building. 

“Saddle up,” Steve barked. Chin and Kono raced off for their offices to collect their things. Danny raced to his office and jumped inside. Steve went into his own office, and hunted up his gun and badge, and a holster. 

“Good morning? Should you be out in the daylight?” Danny wondered in a flurry of words. 

“We wanted to give you our regards before we left for home,” Addie said, rising to her feet and shaking Danny’s hand. 

“Who?” Danny asked, shaking the hand of the other woman. He nearly fell over himself when he realized that this was Lucille, in the flesh, and very much healed. “Steve was right. Dr. Fran was able to help you!” 

“She was a miracle! Such professional comportment. Such knowledge. Such a gift for healing!” Lucy babbled happily, taking off her glasses long enough to show Danny her face. “You can hardly tell, can you?” 

“You’re gorgeous. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise,” Danny promised, patting her cold hand. There were tell-tale signs – a waxy complexion, a slight patch here and there – but he was not going to tell Lucy that. Addie’s dark eyes showed her gratitude where there were no words to suffice. 

“You are too kind. We plan to return to London by an evening flight. I need to be in Geneva if I have any hopes of freeing my poor dear sister from her plight,” Lucy whispered. “How is Steven?” 

“Doesn’t remember a thing.” 

“Even…” 

“Nothing.” 

“Does he plan to pursue this case against Nellie?” Lucy dreaded. 

“I… I can’t say. I’m not sure,” Danny stalled. Steve was headed this way, strapping on a thigh holster, looking gorgeous and pumped-up, ready to go. 

“I must ask you please to talk him out of pursuing this. My sister is not a dangerous criminal. She’s a high-spirited girl. That’s all. She’s been through so much in her young life. It’ll do no good at all to toss her in a dungeon, and watch her wither away into nothing. Please, Daniel. If you have any pull whatsoever on Steven, convince him to drop the charges against her,” Lucy pleaded. 

Danny looked to Addie, who sighed very heavily and gave an imperceptible shake of her head. 

“He doesn’t remember a thing,” Danny sighed. 

“Please,” Lucy begged. 

“I’ll talk to him about it,” Danny replied sadly. 

“Shake a leg, buddy,” Steve ordered, bursting in. He paused between two steps and nearly collided with the desk. “Mistress? Addie?” he asked unsurely, his eyes darting back and forth between Addie and Lucy. “Mistress,” he beamed, dropping to his knees and kissing Lucy’s hands. 

Danny stepped back, very uncomfortable with the display. He was bolstered by the fact that Lucille was equally uncomfortable as well. 

"Stand up, dear boy. Let me see you," Lucy sighed. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Steve asked, rising up, giving Lucy’s hands another kiss. “Addie? Addie, look at you. I haven’t seen you two for ages! You are both as beautiful as always. But where’s Petrus? Ulfie? Where is Nellie skulking about this time? What brings you to Hawaii?” 

“Time to kill,” Addie joked. 

“We were passing through, and I wanted to see you before we left,” Lucy fumbled. “You are a feast for the eyes,” she mused, petting his cheek. 

“Petrus is sorry he didn’t have a chance to say goodbye before he left. He had something to take care of before catching the flight home,” Addie murmured. “Ulfie went with Petrus, of course. Some days those boys are joined at the hip.” 

“Petrus convinced me to get one of these infernal devices,” Lucy said, pulling out a cell phone and showing it to Danny and Steve. “May I…. if it’s not asking too much, might I have your numbers? I should very much like to keep in touch with you.” 

“Sure!” Steve exclaimed happily, taking her phone and entering his number for her. He was taking so long that Danny assumed he must be entering his number as well. 

“Thank you, lovely boy. And now Addie and I will be off. Leave you to your work. Important cases to clear up. How proud I am of the work that you do, Steven,” Lucy said, kissing him gingerly on each cheek before turning to Danny. “And you as well. Congratulations. Be well, my dears. And be prepared, because I will be calling you.” 

“I bet you will,” Danny laughed. 

“Did you leave the scotch and the Queen Anne pistolés on the table at home?” Steve asked. Lucy faltered, but Addie caught the thread quicker. 

“You were asleep. We didn’t want to wake you.”

“Fair well for now,” Lucy said, kissing Danny’s cheeks this time. 

Steve escorted them towards the back staircase, through the shadows, adjusting their hats and glasses for them. 

“Cover up. Be safe out there. That sun is murder. I have an umbrella in my office, if that would help?” 

"Aren’t you a darling? Yes, please,” Lucy cooed. Steve hustled through the outer office, past Chin, Kono, and Danny, into his office, in a lower desk drawer. 

“Hold that thought,” Steve ordered as he raced back through the outer office. 

“Does he remember….” Chin started to ask. 

“Nothing for the last two days, except small bits and pieces,” Danny supplied. 

Steve was waving to Lucy and Addie as they bundled down the steps, hiding in the shadows and using the big umbrella as well. Steve raced past again, watching them disappear into the large, black sedan which was waiting right outside the building. 

“You gonna tell him what happened?” Chin asked. 

“Not if I can help it,” Danny decided. 

"What about when Inquisitor Dotterwich shows up on his doorstep?" Chin wondered. 

“Are we ready?” Kono asked. 

“Ready,” Steve agreed with shrug of his right shoulder. He rolled the left arm and shoulder around, wincing through the pain. 

“It looks good on you,” Kono said, taking Steve’s hand and patting his ring. 

“Yeah?” Steve asked nervously. 

“Yeah,” Chin nodded. 

“Fill me in on Doktor Vang as we drive to the hotel?” Steve asked Danny as they pounded down the steps in unison. 

"Okay. Sure, babe. But first we're going to talk about some ground rules." 

"Ground rules?" Steve echoed. 

"The first of which is....." 

"I marry you, and suddenly, you're my dad?" Steve teased, pushing through the front door with Danny nipping at his heels. 

"The first of which is, you're going to be more careful." 

"Yes, sir," Steve barked, giving a mock salute before jumping into the Camaro.


End file.
